Hearts of Glass
by impatient14
Summary: Dean Winchester has lost what he thought to be the love of his life, his wife Lisa. After her death, he moves to a small beach town off the coast of Delaware. It is in this small town that Dean meets Castiel, a reclusive anomaly that gives Dean a reason to keep going. **Chapter titles are song titles, the lyrics will give you insight into one or more of the characters.**
1. Wait

_It's days like today that make our lives less complicated._

 _Today is unlike any other, and yet it is so very simple in its uniqueness._

 _There are some things that I will do today, that I will not repeat tomorrow, or any day after._

 _If I allow it to be, I imagine I could find comfort in this. I could allow myself to see today as any other that begins with a pink sky, and ends with a black one._

 _I can look down at her, and inhale her beauty like every other morning for the last fourteen years._

 _Today doesn't have to be any different._

 _I can kiss her lips and be grateful she never liked wearing lipstick._

 _I can brush the stray hair from her forehead, and imagine her skin is as warm as it once was._

 _It wasn't always so pale. The natural olive tone that once kissed her flesh, has now been forgotten by her body. Her soul's hasty retreat took the color of her skin along with the light in her eyes._

 _There are no tears in my eyes this morning. I have none to give, she took them when she left me._

 _Surrounded by soft pillowing fabric, her body looks swamped, like its fighting for dominance in her own coffin. I want to pull her free, deliver her from the dirt she will call home from now on, but I find myself unable to move._

 _Standing over her, pretending not to hear the whispers behind me that tell me I should step away soon, I can't bring myself to do anything but stare down at her. I want to categorically memorize every aspect of this version of my wife, and erase it from my memory completely._

 _I will forget the paste of her skin and the odd smell that has replaced the lavender that belongs to her. The uncharacteristic manicure of her nails, the eyeliner she never wore in life- all of it will be forgotten._

 _I will stare down at her and replace each lie with the truth._

 _The white dress she picked out herself. The bareness of her feet. The earrings her mother gave her when she was a little girl. The scar under her chin. These things are what makes this moment real. These are the things that mean I am burying my wife today._

 _So I will stand here, and I will forget and remember simultaneously._

 _Because if I stand here long enough, maybe I will overcome the urge to climb in with her._


	2. Work Song

_"It's alright sweetheart, our time may be up, but it doesn't make it any less of a perfect life together."_

 _"That may be the stupidest thing to have ever come out of your mouth Lis." I shake my head, and look down at our interwoven fingers, comfortably bedded among her hospital sheets._

 _When I look up I know I'll see my wife smiling brightly at me and I don't want to see it. I don't want to see the beauty of her lips, fucking my emotions up even more._

 _I look up anyway._

 _It takes a sucking inhale and a quiet moan for me to finally nod and return her smile._

 _"Dean," Her voice is soft, and not just from its slow decent into being unusable. "We had an amazing life. Didn't we?"_

 _I can't deny that, so I nod again. "Of course. But it doesn't mean we don't deserve more."_

 _I know I'm crying, but I don't bother to wipe away the tears. "I don't want to do this Lisa. I can't do this without you."_

 _Her hand is on my face now, her thumb stroking my cheek despite how much pain I know she is in. I pull it away and place it on her belly. "You can." She whispers. "You are strong. You are stronger than you know Dean."_

 _"You made me strong. It was for you... I was nothing before you... ill be nothing after you."_

 _I'm mumbling, but I know she understands me._

 _"You fool, you have always been something."_

 _She smiles and I swallow back my biting retort because these may be her last words, and I don't want to interrupt the memory with my own voice._

 _"To the people lucky enough to know and love you, to the world who has been brighter since you fell onto it..."_

 _I suppress an eye roll at the overly dramatic words._

 _"To me, Dean.. You are my everything."_

 _At that, my tears begin to pour freely, the steady stream I had been letting leak, growing into a roaring rapid of despair._

 _"Please." I don't know if she can understand me through my sobs, but I beg her nonetheless, my shoulders shaking and heaving, my body collapsing over hers._

 _"Don't do this, Don't leave me."_

 _There are hands in my hair now, and that only makes me cry harder. She is whispering things to me, I know this because I can feel her lips moving against my cheek, but I cannot hear her through my own pleas. "I need you baby, please... please don't go."_

The phone is ringing.

I know the phone is ringing, but I can't bring myself to give a fuck.

The bed is cold without her, I haven't slept in three days, and the phone is ringing.

Despite my utter disinterest in whoever is calling me, my body rolls over and collects my cell phone from the bedside table. Without looking at the screen, I flip it open and bring it to my ear.

"What?"

"Well hello to you too, boy." The gruff and familiar voice of my surrogate father Bobby is in my ear. If it were any other time, I would find his whiskey soaked voice comforting, but this morning I want to reach through the phone and beat him senseless with the raggedy old baseball cap I know to be sitting on his head.

"What do you want Bobby?"

"Just checkin' on you kid. Haven't heard from you since... well, you know... And I just wanted to make sure you weren't doing' anything stupid over there."

"Uh huh." My eyes are still closed, but they roll anyway. "I'm not drunk Bobby."

"I wasn't saying that or nothing." Bobby defended quickly. "But, uh... maybe we ought to hit a meeting anyway, you know- stressful times and all."

The urge to stop at the liquor store on the way home from Lisa's funeral had been the strongest I'd felt in fifteen years, but I managed to speed past it. It wasn't a promise, though. There was a familiar itch crawling up my skin now, and I knew where it led and how to scratch it, but I hadn't done so yet.

"Yeah." I say, only to get him off the phone. "Alright."

"There's one at four at St. Andrews. Sound good?" Bobby was one eager son of a bitch this morning, but there was no point in putting it off.

"Sure."

"How about dinner after?"

"Don't push it Bobby." I didn't care how much that sounded like a growl. "I'll see you later."

"Alright, alright. Take care of yourself boy." His voice was tinged with annoyed concern, but I end the call with a curt- "Yep."

The phone falls next to my head and I finally find the will to open my eyes.

Our bedroom ceiling is the first thing I see and its a welcome blank slate. There are no memories associated with this ceiling because it is utterly ordinary. It is white and without stains, nothing about it springs memories of my life with Lisa to mind. Every other ceiling looks like this one, and it's safe to stare.

I've been living in this condo for ten years.

I shared it with the wife I now talk about in the past tense.

It was the first thing we owned together, since Lisa had moved into my apartment in Roxbury when we got together. Thankfully, she got a permanent teaching position not long after she moved in, and I got a raise or two after a few years at the shop, so we were able to save enough to buy a place on Castle Island.

Neither of us grew up in Boston, but it became our home once we made one together. Lisa came here for college, I came here because there was no where else for me to go. I followed my high school girlfriend, and basically lived in a blood and liquor soaked gutter until Bobby found me and pulled me out of it.

I was nineteen when he picked me off of the pavement, saying he got a tip from my father about where I was. I remember yelling in his face that it was impossible, that my dad didn't give two shits about what I did with my life, let alone care enough to send Bobby to find me.

Bobby called me a dumbass and took me home with him. He cleaned me up, ignored my protests that I wasn't worth it, and put me to work as a cashier at his auto shop.

It was there I fell in love with cars. I had always had a healthy appreciation for them, but working at that shop made me want to learn absolutely everything I could about building an engine. The parts fit together like pieces of a much more interesting puzzle than the ones of horses my mother used to leave on our kitchen table. I could take them apart and put them back together in ways that left my hands throbbing contently and my mind pulsing with anticipation.

An engine, a body, brakes, and treads; all of it came together to form my salvation.

It was a pathway to freedom, a highway to a life worth living.

Bobby helped me get through mechanic school and gave me a job once I was out. He never asked more from me than to work my ass off getting my degree, and to show up to work on time. It came naturally to me, working on cars, it was something I could do to erase the memories alcohol had drowned out before.

They were childhood friends, Bobby and my father, but I never saw him more than a few times over the course of my life before he saved me. He had moved from Sterling, Virginia to Boston when I was only six or seven, but I do remember him, letting my little brother ride on his back like a horse until Sammy threw up on Bobby's trucker hat. He spouted out words I had never heard before, but use frequently now, and the smile he was wearing between curses made me warm to him instantly.

I don't think I've ever laughed harder.

Of course that was before everything went to hell.

All of these facts lead me to keep my eyes open this morning. I did have a life before Lisa, even if it was absolute shit, and I will have a life after her too.

Even if it's absolute shit.

I don't have any great plans for the first day I return to the living without my wife, I figure I should keep it light.

Today I am simply going to get up, shower, and eat breakfast. It seems like a major feat considering I've done none of those things for two days straight, but there was a time I did those things without thinking.

I'll also meet Bobby for an AA meeting at the church around the corner, and I'll force myself to eat something again before falling back into bed tonight.

Maybe I'll even smash a few plates of our wedding china if I'm feeling up to it.

With a loud grunt somewhere between encouragement and protest, I make my first move towards my goal.

Sitting up hurts, but making the determined walk towards the bathroom hurts more.

Taking myself through the motions of life, it's the exact kind of pain I was expecting, but would sell my soul to do without.

I don't want to live, not really. I wanted to go with her.

But now I walk down the hallway that we painted a mossy green despite my screams about how stupid a color that was. It was muted and too colorless to be labeled green. I still hate it this morning, but I find myself wanting to carve out a piece of the wall and put it in the pocket of the jeans Lisa bought me for Christmas last year.

The bathroom is no better.

It has sea shells from my parents' beach house (well my beach house now) and Lisa's Women's Health magazines. There are hotel shampoo bottles in the cabinet from our latest trip to New York, and a bar of soap on the counter that has never been used. I asked why it was there about a hundred times, not understanding why it had to take up space on the counter if we had a liquid soap dispenser on the other side, but Lisa had insisted on using the soap holder that matched the toothbrush holder so there it was.

There are grumbles coming from my mouth as I enter the shower's stream that hasn't had time to warm up, but it is nothing more than a string of curses.

It's the first shower I've had since the morning of Lisa's funeral, and when I lift my arms to run my hands through my hair I can smell the last two nights of sweat and tears in my armpits. Part of me feels guilty for washing away the stink of my grief, like it's a badge I should be wearing in honor of my dead wife, but a much saner rationality tells me I am a fucking idiot and I proceed to scrub away my BO.

We always shared body wash and shampoo.

I've never felt the need to buy the stuff made especially for men, and I actually preferred the smells that were marketed towards women. Lisa almost never bought the same thing twice, but usually stuck to the same range of scents. Lavender was her favorite, but knowing I preferred coconut or something with citrus on myself, she changed it up regularly.

This morning, pomegranate fills my senses and it occurs to me mid scrub that this was one of the last things my wife had bought. The bottle is nearly empty now, having been bought on a rare good day over two months ago.

She had insisted on going out that day, and I indulged her in a quick trip to the supermarket since it was only a few miles away and I could get us back in under half an hour if I kept the list short.

My worries were unfounded though, and we had a great afternoon. It included a stop at the coffee shop next to our house ,and sex that I could just barely get it up for.

It wasn't that I was no longer attracted to Lisa, it just felt wrong somehow. We had been given the terminal diagnosis a few months earlier, Lisa had been declining in health more rapidly, and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her. Pushing my façade of an ego aside, I am a well endowed man, and I didn't think cancer patients were supposed to handle heavy machinery.

When I said as much though, I received a slap in the face and my wife dropped to her knees.

Nothing like a blow-job from your dying wife to get you in the mood.

I did manage to get it up though, and this morning I am grateful for it. Despite its slow rhythm and repeated interruption to apply more lube, I was fully aware that might have been the last time I would make love to my wife, and that fact made it both devastating and amazing at the same time.

The memory clings to me as I finish washing myself, soaking into my skin like the soap I used to wash away the stink of my grief.

Turning off the water took much longer than it should have because getting out of the shower was far harder than getting in.

The things I have to do next lead me closer and closer to living my life again, and I don't think I'm ready for that. The now piping hot water burning my skin is a barrier against the world outside, my scalded flesh a welcome physical distraction from the true pain that awaits me.

A very loud complaint from my stomach insists I get my ass out of the shower though, so I turn the knob to turn off the water spray and grab a towel from the hook on the wall.

It matches the color of our hallway.


	3. To Build A Home

The walk to the church earlier this afternoon was as eventful as my morning; ordinary in its approach, but mind-bending in its execution.

Each step was familiar, each crack in the sidewalk a road sign to tell me I was going in the right direction, but the very real fact that I was able to make that journey was boggling my mind. That my life was continuing, moving forward and not slipping through the very cracks in which I follow to the church, it was a surreal experience. My wife, my partner, the person I had spent the last fourteen years growing with and loving more than I ever loved myself, she is gone.

She is dead, and I still live to walk over the cracks in the sidewalk.

Bobby was waiting for me when I got to the church's basement, where the meetings took place. People sat in chairs arranged in rows, but Bobby stood in the back, waiting for me to arrive. The meeting hadn't started yet, and there were a few people pouring themselves coffee from the pot on the table at the side of the room.

"Thought you might not show." Bobby said to me, his voice lowered but still loud enough for a few people to turn around and look at us.

"But then I'd have to listen to you bitch, old man." I walked around him and found a seat in the back row. It had been a few months since my last meeting, but I still had no intention of speaking.

"Can it, junior." Bobby griped behind me, following my path to the last row.

Thankfully the meeting started quickly thereafter, and only three people got up to speak. I cringed when it was time for the chants, but let the words tumble from my mouth nonetheless.

By the time we make it back outside, I am craving a drink more than I was when I entered, and it's pretty obvious to me that Bobby can tell.

"How about you let me buy you some food, and we can talk about what you're going to do next son."

I want to argue. I want to tell him that I don't need to discuss anything, especially not my future, but I only nod. Food actually sounds good, and my craving for a scotch and soda will only be stronger if I go home alone.

So here I sit, staring across the booth at the man who became my father, and wishing like hell I could trade places with my dead wife.

"You take as much time as you need, you hear?" Bobby was saying, making sure I knew I could wait to come back to work until I was ready. "But you may find it easier to... cope... or whatever, if you're busy."

Bobby stabs a fork into his gravy soaked fries and angles one into his mouth.

"Yeah." I say, because I'm not known for my ability to share my feelings, and there is nothing more waiting on my tongue.

I couldn't imagine not going back to work soon anyway, I am alone all of the time now.

Being surrounded by car parts, and sweat and grease stained men, that sounds like my particular brand of heaven at the moment.

"Why don't you come over tomorrow night for dinner? Ellen been yappin' my ear off about getting you to her." Bobby continued to shovel food into his mouth, holding a paper napkin in his hand that periodically wipes gravy off of his lumberjack beard.

"Bobby," I hope my voice sounds as stern as it's meant to, "Can't I just have some time? Jesus Christ, I just buried my wife, I don't want to go to a dinner party and have Ellen falling all over herself trying to shove food down my throat."

"Hey, I get it Dean." Bobby says gruffly. "But you and I both know how hard it is to keep her from getting what she wants."

I want to argue, but the truth keeps me silent.

Bobby's wife is a strong and colorful woman, and I have very little chance of getting out of her dinner invitation for long.

She married Bobby about five years after Lisa and I got hitched, and she has been bossing all of us around ever since. Of course, the woman has basically adopted me as her own, so I can't complain too much about her abrasiveness. She only acts out of love, and that's already more than I deserve.

"Yeah, I know it." I finally say, pushing the last of my pork sandwich into my mouth and chewing it lazily. "Maybe next week?"

"I'll tell her." Bobby nods. "You gonna be alright tonight?"

How do I answer that?

If he is asking if I plan on turning the bottle up, the answer is no.

If he is asking if I plan to make it through the night, the answer is yes.

But if he wants to know if I will be spending my evening doing anything other than crying over old pictures and lying in sheets I haven't changed because I can still smell Lisa on them, I will have to lie.

"As much as I can be."

That's a safe enough answer.

Bobby seems to disagree by the way his jaw sets in an irritated click, but he stays silent.

A few minutes later, Bobby is paying the check and leaning his way out of the booth. "You done here?"

"Yeah."

"Come on then, I'll walk you home." Bobby doesn't wait for me to answer, just turns and walks towards the doors of the diner.

"You don't have to," I say, when we get outside. "I don't need a babysitter walking me home Bobby."

"Do I look like a fifteen year old girl?" Bobby snaps back. "Just let me do this boy, and shut your trap."

His sharp, but harmless tongue pulls something like laughter from my belly, but the twinge of affection isn't enough to let my amusement escape. "Yeah, okay."

The walk home is silent, a gift Bobby gives me in return for letting him walk me home. When we make it to my front door, his hand goes to my shoulder for a moment before telling me goodbye.

It's quick and painless, outwardly devoid of emotion, but I can always see how much Bobby cares for me in his eyes.

Once I'm inside, the smell of my house assaults me, and I think maybe I will always hate coming home now. There are a few different scents floating through the air, but every single one reminds me of Lisa.

The bananas I continued to buy, despite my hatred for them, are fragrant as they ripen on the counter. They were one of the only things Lisa could stomach towards the end, and I find myself unable to throw them out now.

The coffee from this morning, still lingers, like its collecting dust in the room. Lisa never liked coffee, but she still made it for me every morning that she was up first.

My eyes flicker to the living room where the perfume sticks Lisa bought at Target stick out of oil, in a bottle on the shelf. She said it was a decorative way to freshen up the room, and I pretended to find it stupid, when really I loved the way the citrus scented oil clung to every surface of the living room.

It isn't fair, having to continue my life in a place I no longer wish to be.

This house was meant for us, for me and Lisa. It was meant for us to have a family.

And now I will live here alone. Smelling Lisa until she disappears completely and I am left with nothing.

I push off from where I am leaning on the front door and walk slowly to the kitchen.

There is a wild thought pushing through my brain now, and I want to move my body while I think it out.

I don't have to live here.

The truth is, no matter where I go, I will be alone. So why not live somewhere Lisa doesn't haunt me? I shouldn't have to hate coming home or falling into bed. I shouldn't have to physically live with the memories that will already be pushing themselves in my head.

I could move.

I could pack up and leave this house, leave this town.

There are garages everywhere, it wouldn't be hard for me to find work.

My mind continues to plan out my escape as I find my way to the couch. It dips under my weight, and the air that escapes the cushions as I sit smells of citrus and lavender.

I need to buy new furniture too.

My eyes close and my head tilts back into the couch.

Maybe I will sleep here tonight, maybe I will actually be able to sleep if I am not using Lisa's pillow to muffle my cries.

The clock on the wall above the television chimes, and I snicker to myself because I used to hate that fucking thing, but now welcome the break in silence. It brings me to my feet and I'm taking down the clock and pulling out its batteries before I realize I've gotten up.

There are pictures lining the shelves next to the television and I purposely avoid looking at them. But as I reach to turn them all face down, a bright blue frame grabs my attention, and I know what picture I will find inside.

It's safe to look at, as I know Lisa is not in it.

I place the clock on the ground and pick up the frame, rubbing my thumb absently over the woman smiling back at me.

It's a picture of my parents, standing in front the of the beach house they bought the summer I turned eight. The picture was taken recently, though, and my father has his arm slung over my mother's shoulders, his smile barely a lift in the corners of his mouth.

My father, a marine and general hard-ass, almost never smiled wider than that. There are times I wonder if he used to, before I got fucked up and Sam died, but it's impossible for me to know now. Well, not impossible, seeing as though there are probably old pictures in the boxes I had sent to storage, but I don't necessarily want to find the answer.

If my father became physically incapable of smiling because of me, I'd rather not know. If I caused his eyes to look as though they've seen more than their fair share of hell, I'd like to keep that fact boxed away forever.

I'm not stupid enough to believe people are born with sadness in their eyes though.

My gaze is drawn to the house behind them. A small cottage surrounded by sand and a pebbled driveway. There is a dune to the right and just behind the house, and a crystal blue sky that could only be hovering above an ocean.

They willed this house to me when they died, and I've been renting it out to beach goers ever since.

I could go there.

Lisa and I only went to that house once, and only for a weekend to box up the personal stuff so that the house could be ready to rent. There won't be many memories of her being there to torture me.

The house won't smell of her, it will smell of salt and sand, and everything that isn't this house.

If I stay in this house, it will kill me. I will drink myself stupid, and I will die in a puddle of my own vomit.

As I replace the picture to the shelf, I keep my eyes steady on the house behind my parents. My breath hitches in my throat as I try to imagine the life waiting for me in that house.

A life where I've traded the ghost of my wife, for the ghosts of my past.


	4. Off I Go

"Well, your timing is damn near perfect kid. My best mechanic broke his back in a boating accident and is laid up for God knows how long." The garage manager, Rufus, says to me across his desk. "Bobby vouching for you is good enough for me. When can you start?"

A flutter of satisfaction heats my skin and I answer immediately. "Tomorrow works for me."

"Alright, be here at eight and I'll have Benny give you the run down." The manager stands and extends his hand to me. My own hand reaches up as I find my feet and shakes his.

"Sounds good, thank you Rufus."

"Like I said, if you're as good as Bobby says, you'll be doing me a favor."

I smile at him casually and turn back towards the door. "Okay then, see you tomorrow."

"Yep." I hear him reply back to me, the creak of his chair, signaling he had gone back to the paperwork on his desk.

The upcoming winter's wind assaults my face as I step back outside. The garage is only a twenty minute walk from the beach house, and I find myself looking forward to the trip home. It gives me a chance to think through the very real problem that has already begun to present itself.

Last night's experiment had gone relatively well, I only bit down on my lip once to keep from ordering a scotch and soda. There was one moment though, that i felt the overwhelming urge to run screaming from the bar with a bottle of whatever my hand could grab, on the way out. It was fleeting, but powerful nonetheless.

It made me want to rethink my usual practice of visiting bars, and trusting myself not to indulge. But it also presented me with the reoccurring thought: _"Maybe I really can do better this time._

Maybe my alcoholism was truly environmental and related only to the situations around me, and not a biological addiction. Maybe I can control myself now that I am older, and more in control of my life. It only takes a few moments of these thoughts though, for me to remember that the most stable aspect of my life is currently rotting under Boston soil.

My wife gave me a, kind of, false sense of security that still haunts me. I felt so at ease in the life we created together, it is no wonder some of that feeling has bled over into the life I lead now. Those thoughts of being able to control my alcohol intake happened often over the last fourteen years, but I never felt the need to test it.

Now that I am feeling more and more compelled to take the risk, I no longer have my wife to pick me back up if I fall. I am without a life jacket, despite the very real possibility that I could drown.  
I continue to struggle with my own thoughts and desires as I take the first steps onto my gravel driveway. I decide to go into the house and grab a few of the reusable shopping bags Lisa insisted on years ago, and drive to the grocery store. There is nothing but yellow mustard and a bottle of olives in the fridge, and I don't plan to eat out at every meal.

By the time I make it to the grocery store, it is well past the time I usually eat lunch and I am starving. My hunger fills the basket much faster than usual, and I find it almost impossible to fit in everything the house needs. Thankfully, a woman at one of the registers sees my struggle and offers to take the cart up and begin the checkout process, as I finish up my shopping with another cart.

I fill the second cart about a third of the way before I feel confident that I've gotten everything I would need for the next few weeks. I don't like to go to the chain grocery stores regularly and typically buy produce at local food stands, but having not scoped out any farmers markets yet, I buy enough produce to keep for a week.

When i get to the register, the woman is about half way through the first cart, both reusable bags filled to the brim.

"There is no way I'm going to be able to get all of these in these two bags. You got anymore, honey?" The older woman asks me.

"No, I'm sorry. I only have the two. Do you sell any?"

"Sure do." The woman raises her arm up to point behind me. "There's a rack over there with a few different sizes. I expect you'll need at least five big ones if you want all these to fit darlin'."

"Alright, thanks." I say, walking over to the bags and grabbing five large ones and two medium sized ones. "Here you go." I force a smile as I hand her the bags.

"Stockin' up for the winter?" She asks with a twinge of humor.

"New house, need a little of everything." I explain.

"Oh really? Where you from?"

"Boston." I answer before I have a chance to think it through.

"Oh big city type huh? What brings you down here?" She continues to ring up and pack the bags and I place them back in the cart once they are full.

"Needed a change I guess." I haven't quite decided how I plan to answer these questions much further than that, and I pray she doesn't ask for more details.  
"Well, you'll certainly get that then. I hope you don't expect more than peace and quiet here."

"Hmm." I smile again because I don't know what to say to that. I didn't move here because I wanted peace and quiet, in fact, living in silence scares the hell out of me. If anything, I need distraction, commotion. It occurs to me that moving here was definitely not the smartest thing I could have done, but it made the most sense logistically so I'll have to make do.

"Well, that's the last of it." She finishes packing the last bag and I place it on top of the others. She rattles off the price and I do my best to keep my eyes in their sockets as I pull out my credit card. I calm my anxiety attack with the knowledge that I would begin working tomorrow, and would be able to pay my credit card bill with my first check.

I thank the cashier and she smiles warmly back at me as I wave goodbye. It was an odd gesture, feeling foreign the moment I performed it, but she seemed to appreciate it.

The drive home is quick. It's only ten minutes before I am pulling up the driveway again and hauling the bags of groceries into the house. The kitchen floor is covered in blue bags in a matter of moments, and I set to work in putting everything away. It takes me almost a half hour to set up the food in the cabinets and fridge, and then I go about organizing the kitchen in a way that better suits my routine.

My mother always kept the glasses over the stove, a habit that deterred Sammy and I from climbing the counters to get at them. I however, prefer to keep them next to the fridge and I begin the process of transferring items from each cabinet. There are a few coffee mugs I remember from my childhood that Lisa wanted to pack up, but I felt no need to do so. Renters would need coffee mugs, and those were not so special that it would have mattered if they were to break.

Seeing them now, though, I find relief fill my senses that they look unharmed. It was a set of four, a different word engraved into each one. They were stark white, while the words were black and written in a kind of typewriter font. My mother had picked them up at a garage sale, claiming the one that said , _Create_ , for herself. My father rarely went out of his way to choose one over the other, but I remember seeing _Relax_ in his hands more times than any other. I was always partial to _Wake Up_ , and felt a vague sense of guilt that _Revive_ wasn't used more often.

I move the cups to the cabinet next to the fridge, along with the wine glasses I'll never use and the rocks glasses that causes my heart to skip a beat. I place those high on the top shelf and push them back towards the wall so that I won't see them when I open the cabinet. Until I get a handle on whatever it is I plan to do, it would be better for me not to have something so seductive staring me in the face all the time.

Once I'm finished making the kitchen the way I want it, my stomach begins to protest again, and I remember how hungry I am. I make a simple turkey sandwich and eat it on the back porch. The dune cuts off some of my view of the beach, but I can see the waves clearly as they crash into the sand.

There is a group of seagulls looking for scraps along the water's edge, as well as a few people walking or running along the beach. It reminds me that I want to start up a jogging routine as well, something physical to take my mind off of the things that threaten to destroy me. It is cold enough to be uncomfortable in just my sweater and jeans, and I finish eating quickly. I contemplate unpacking a few things, but instead end up going inside to grab a blanket and pulling it around myself.

I walk the short distance from my back porch to the sand dune that separates my property from the public beach. There are weeds and various pieces of debris from the last storm scattered along the sand, and I find a clear spot to sit in right at the base of the dune so I can lean against it.

The waves are louder than the wind that blows against my ears, but the wind bites painfully at my skin. I pull the blanket tighter around myself and settle into the comfortable rhythm of the tide.

I don't know how long I sit there, just staring out into the ocean, the waves nearly hypnotizing me into forgetting all of my troubles. My mind goes blank, and I am released of all thoughts of Lisa and the drink my body is politely asking me for.

My eyes begin to grow lazy, and they leave the water to travel over the sand once more. Movement catches my attention and I turn my head to see a woman a few hundred yards away running towards my direction. She is dressed warmly, and keeping a steady pace. It makes me feel guilty for having not worked out yet, but my shame quickly dissipates as my eyes wander past the woman and to a man walking much slower behind her.

He is dressed in jeans and a dark long sleeve shirt, the wind lifting it from his arms in a way that tells me it is much too light to be comfortable in this weather. I can make out a black beanie on his head, and the familiar glow of a cigarette in his hand.

He walks slowly and aimlessly through the surf. The fact that the man is walking in the surely freezing water should surprise me, but I find his appearance familiar some how. As he gets closer, I notice his feet are bare and kicking up sand and water as he walks. His head is turned down to his feet and sometimes out to the water, so I can't get a clear view of his face, but there is something about him that makes me feel like I should know who he is, or that perhaps I already do.

It's a feeling that makes me oddly uncomfortable though, and I find myself standing suddenly. I turn back to the house once he is close enough for me to make out the dark lines of sea water that clings the man's jeans to his ankles.

But then I can smell smoke in the next gust of wind, and my head swivels back on instinct. It is only an instant, but it's just in time to catch a glimpse of stubble lined cheeks.


	5. Swallowed

"Well, your timing is damn near perfect kid. My best mechanic broke his back in a boating accident and is laid up for God knows how long." The garage manager, Rufus, says to me across his desk. "Bobby vouching for you is good enough for me. When can you start?"

A flutter of satisfaction heats my skin and I answer immediately. "Tomorrow works for me."

"Alright, be here at eight and I'll have Benny give you the run down." The manager stands and extends his hand to me. My own hand reaches up as I find my feet and shakes his.

"Sounds good, thank you Rufus."

"Like I said, if you're as good as Bobby says, you'll be doing me a favor."

I smile at him casually and turn back towards the door. "Okay then, see you tomorrow."

"Yep." I hear him reply back to me, the creak of his chair, signaling he had gone back to the paperwork on his desk.

The upcoming winter's wind assaults my face as I step back outside. The garage is only a twenty minute walk from the beach house, and I find myself looking forward to the trip home. It gives me a chance to think through the very real problem that has already begun to present itself.

Last night's experiment had gone relatively well, I only bit down on my lip once to keep from ordering a scotch and soda. There was one moment though, that i felt the overwhelming urge to run screaming from the bar with a bottle of whatever my hand could grab, on the way out. It was fleeting, but powerful nonetheless.

It made me want to rethink my usual practice of visiting bars, and trusting myself not to indulge. But it also presented me with the reoccurring thought: _"Maybe I really can do better this time._

Maybe my alcoholism was truly environmental and related only to the situations around me, and not a biological addiction. Maybe I can control myself now that I am older, and more in control of my life. It only takes a few moments of these thoughts though, for me to remember that the most stable aspect of my life is currently rotting under Boston soil.

My wife gave me a, kind of, false sense of security that still haunts me. I felt so at ease in the life we created together, it is no wonder some of that feeling has bled over into the life I lead now. Those thoughts of being able to control my alcohol intake happened often over the last fourteen years, but I never felt the need to test it.

Now that I am feeling more and more compelled to take the risk, I no longer have my wife to pick me back up if I fall. I am without a life jacket, despite the very real possibility that I could drown.  
I continue to struggle with my own thoughts and desires as I take the first steps onto my gravel driveway. I decide to go into the house and grab a few of the reusable shopping bags Lisa insisted on years ago, and drive to the grocery store. There is nothing but yellow mustard and a bottle of olives in the fridge, and I don't plan to eat out at every meal.

By the time I make it to the grocery store, it is well past the time I usually eat lunch and I am starving. My hunger fills the basket much faster than usual, and I find it almost impossible to fit in everything the house needs. Thankfully, a woman at one of the registers sees my struggle and offers to take the cart up and begin the checkout process, as I finish up my shopping with another cart.

I fill the second cart about a third of the way before I feel confident that I've gotten everything I would need for the next few weeks. I don't like to go to the chain grocery stores regularly and typically buy produce at local food stands, but having not scoped out any farmers markets yet, I buy enough produce to keep for a week.

When i get to the register, the woman is about half way through the first cart, both reusable bags filled to the brim.

"There is no way I'm going to be able to get all of these in these two bags. You got anymore, honey?" The older woman asks me.

"No, I'm sorry. I only have the two. Do you sell any?"

"Sure do." The woman raises her arm up to point behind me. "There's a rack over there with a few different sizes. I expect you'll need at least five big ones if you want all these to fit darlin'."

"Alright, thanks." I say, walking over to the bags and grabbing five large ones and two medium sized ones. "Here you go." I force a smile as I hand her the bags.

"Stockin' up for the winter?" She asks with a twinge of humor.

"New house, need a little of everything." I explain.

"Oh really? Where you from?"

"Boston." I answer before I have a chance to think it through.

"Oh big city type huh? What brings you down here?" She continues to ring up and pack the bags and I place them back in the cart once they are full.

"Needed a change I guess." I haven't quite decided how I plan to answer these questions much further than that, and I pray she doesn't ask for more details.  
"Well, you'll certainly get that then. I hope you don't expect more than peace and quiet here."

"Hmm." I smile again because I don't know what to say to that. I didn't move here because I wanted peace and quiet, in fact, living in silence scares the hell out of me. If anything, I need distraction, commotion. It occurs to me that moving here was definitely not the smartest thing I could have done, but it made the most sense logistically so I'll have to make do.

"Well, that's the last of it." She finishes packing the last bag and I place it on top of the others. She rattles off the price and I do my best to keep my eyes in their sockets as I pull out my credit card. I calm my anxiety attack with the knowledge that I would begin working tomorrow, and would be able to pay my credit card bill with my first check.

I thank the cashier and she smiles warmly back at me as I wave goodbye. It was an odd gesture, feeling foreign the moment I performed it, but she seemed to appreciate it.

The drive home is quick. It's only ten minutes before I am pulling up the driveway again and hauling the bags of groceries into the house. The kitchen floor is covered in blue bags in a matter of moments, and I set to work in putting everything away. It takes me almost a half hour to set up the food in the cabinets and fridge, and then I go about organizing the kitchen in a way that better suits my routine.

My mother always kept the glasses over the stove, a habit that deterred Sammy and I from climbing the counters to get at them. I however, prefer to keep them next to the fridge and I begin the process of transferring items from each cabinet. There are a few coffee mugs I remember from my childhood that Lisa wanted to pack up, but I felt no need to do so. Renters would need coffee mugs, and those were not so special that it would have mattered if they were to break.

Seeing them now, though, I find relief fill my senses that they look unharmed. It was a set of four, a different word engraved into each one. They were stark white, while the words were black and written in a kind of typewriter font. My mother had picked them up at a garage sale, claiming the one that said , _Create_ , for herself. My father rarely went out of his way to choose one over the other, but I remember seeing _Relax_ in his hands more times than any other. I was always partial to _Wake Up_ , and felt a vague sense of guilt that _Revive_ wasn't used more often.

I move the cups to the cabinet next to the fridge, along with the wine glasses I'll never use and the rocks glasses that causes my heart to skip a beat. I place those high on the top shelf and push them back towards the wall so that I won't see them when I open the cabinet. Until I get a handle on whatever it is I plan to do, it would be better for me not to have something so seductive staring me in the face all the time.

Once I'm finished making the kitchen the way I want it, my stomach begins to protest again, and I remember how hungry I am. I make a simple turkey sandwich and eat it on the back porch. The dune cuts off some of my view of the beach, but I can see the waves clearly as they crash into the sand.

There is a group of seagulls looking for scraps along the water's edge, as well as a few people walking or running along the beach. It reminds me that I want to start up a jogging routine as well, something physical to take my mind off of the things that threaten to destroy me. It is cold enough to be uncomfortable in just my sweater and jeans, and I finish eating quickly. I contemplate unpacking a few things, but instead end up going inside to grab a blanket and pulling it around myself.

I walk the short distance from my back porch to the sand dune that separates my property from the public beach. There are weeds and various pieces of debris from the last storm scattered along the sand, and I find a clear spot to sit in right at the base of the dune so I can lean against it.

The waves are louder than the wind that blows against my ears, but the wind bites painfully at my skin. I pull the blanket tighter around myself and settle into the comfortable rhythm of the tide.

I don't know how long I sit there, just staring out into the ocean, the waves nearly hypnotizing me into forgetting all of my troubles. My mind goes blank, and I am released of all thoughts of Lisa and the drink my body is politely asking me for.

My eyes begin to grow lazy, and they leave the water to travel over the sand once more. Movement catches my attention and I turn my head to see a woman a few hundred yards away running towards my direction. She is dressed warmly, and keeping a steady pace. It makes me feel guilty for having not worked out yet, but my shame quickly dissipates as my eyes wander past the woman and to a man walking much slower behind her.

He is dressed in jeans and a dark long sleeve shirt, the wind lifting it from his arms in a way that tells me it is much too light to be comfortable in this weather. I can make out a black beanie on his head, and the familiar glow of a cigarette in his hand.

He walks slowly and aimlessly through the surf. The fact that the man is walking in the surely freezing water should surprise me, but I find his appearance familiar some how. As he gets closer, I notice his feet are bare and kicking up sand and water as he walks. His head is turned down to his feet and sometimes out to the water, so I can't get a clear view of his face, but there is something about him that makes me feel like I should know who he is, or that perhaps I already do.

It's a feeling that makes me oddly uncomfortable though, and I find myself standing suddenly. I turn back to the house once he is close enough for me to make out the dark lines of sea water that clings the man's jeans to his ankles.

But then I can smell smoke in the next gust of wind, and my head swivels back on instinct. It is only an instant, but it's just in time to catch a glimpse of stubble lined cheeks.


	6. Sinister Kid

I leave for work earlier than I need to the next morning, and I find myself standing in front of a coffee shop just down the street from the garage at 7:30am. I have time to grab some coffee and check out the place, so I walk inside with only a slight amount of unease.

I've never enjoyed walking into a place I've never been before. The anxiety of knowing whether the door opens with a push or pull, if there are unwritten rules about where to sit and how to talk, it makes my skin crawl in discomfort. It's a necessity, of course, otherwise I'd never go anywhere, but it's a process I detest. The fact that I also severely dislike chains, where I would undoubtedly find the same set up everywhere, doesn't help. I prefer the atmosphere of small and locally run establishments, but also like the familiarity of knowing what I'm walking into.

The first thing I think when I walk into this place is, _brown_. The walls are lined with wood panels, and the floor is a dark cedar color that makes me feel instantly warm. There is art on the walls with little price tags in the corner that makes me think they are from local artists. Plush couches and broken in recliners are scattered throughout the coffee shop, with random book shelves breaking up different seating areas. It isn't an overly large space, and I would dare to call it intimate if I felt more familiar with it.

I hesitantly step up to the counter, which is set towards the middle of the shop and off to the left. There is a petite woman with fiery red hair hanging over the counter, staring down at two blank note cards. She is thumping the end of her pen against the counter and huffing out signs of frustration as I look above her, hoping to find a simple, no fuss menu.

I am pleasantly surprised to see a blackboard behind her, no more than ten items written in various colors of chalk. There are a few things I don't recognize, but most of the things listed are fairly typical coffee shop fare.

The girl looks up to me and her eyes brighten considerably. "Hey! Maybe you can help me out today!"

I am so taken back by her cheer I don't have time to process her question. "Huh?"

"Today's tip jars," She shakes her head and looks back down to the blank note cards. "I can't come up with something today. I usually think of it the night before, but last night I got caught up in the game and then passed out at Dorothy's and didn't get here until like ten minutes ago." She speaks so quickly I'm not sure I catch every word, and she keeps going before I can respond. "The coffee isn't even ready yet, so it'll be a minute before I can get you some, sorry."

"It's fine." I say slowly, trying to catch up to the conversation. I look back down to the counter to the blank note cards and then see the two glass jars that are placed at the edge of the counter in front of me. "What did you say about your tip jars?"

"Oh." The woman said. "Have you not been in here before? I don't recognize you, but I'm not always here so..." She trails off and studies my face more closely.

"No, I haven't." I answer back simply. "New in town."

"Oh fun!" She has a bright smile on her face, and I can't help but return it. "Fresh meat!" I chuckle at that and she points to the jars. "Every day we put out two tip jars, each one taking a different side to a popular debate. You know, like, chocolate verses vanilla, Beach verses Pool, _Twilight_ verses _Buffy_. Then people make their vote with their tip."

"Did Twilight get any votes?"

"Some bleeding heart put a nickel in there at the end of the day." She rolls her eyes and it broadens my smile. "You got any ideas?"

"Uh... Have you done _Star Wars_ verses _Star Trek_ yet?"

Her eyes go big and her smile is growing eerily wider and I wonder if maybe I should take a step back. "Oh my God, you're a freakin' genius! I can't believe I hadn't thought of that one yet!" She sets to work writing the two sides on the note cards and then placing them in their holders over the jars. "Awesome." She shakes her head in appreciation and then her eyes are back on me. "So, you here for caffeine too, or did you just come in to save the day?"

Another laugh escapes me, and I nod. "Yeah, um just a black coffee will do me fine."

"Can't convince you to let me doctor it up for ya? As a thank you?"

I eye her suspiciously for a second before my mouth shrugs for me and I raise my hands. "Sure, why not?"

"Yes!" She turns around quickly to her espresso machine and then turns just her head back to look at me again. "I'm Charlie by the way."

"Morning Charlie, I'm Dean." I am expecting the usual 'new in town' questioning to follow next, but she just begins making my drink.

"Nice to meet you Dean." She throws the words over her shoulder. "I don't know what I would have done without you this morning."

"Happy to help." I watch as she pours a few different things into a disposable cup, and I begin to feel anxious about what it is Charlie is concocting. "That's not some sugary chino' crap is it? Cuz I'd rather just have hot water if that's the case."

"No, no. You don't seem like the sugar bomb type." Charlie says back, placing a top on the drink and turning around to hand it to me. "Just trust me, kay?"

I give her a doubtful look, but take the cup anyway and warily bring it to my lips.

The first sip is an assault of heat on my taste buds, but soon the flavor of her masterpiece begins to melt into my tongue. It only takes a moment to realize the heat isn't all from temperature, as the drink's spicy aftertaste mingles easily with the coffee. There is also just a hint of something sweet to take the edge off the bitterness of the dark roast.

There is sounds of appreciation exiting my mouth around the coffee cup lid and Charlie squeals in delight. "Yes! I knew I could peg you!"

"Charlie- this is, _by far_ , the best cup of coffee I've ever had." I say it honestly, because it is absolutely the truth. Of course, I can't remember the last time I drank anything that didn't come directly from a coffee pot, but her encouraged grin keeps me from saying so.

"Why thank you kind sir." She does a little bow that makes Charlie look adorable, and I have the sudden urge to keep her close and protect her from the cruel, harsh world. I think somewhat bitterly that Lisa would have really liked her. Probably would have tried to fix Charlie up with just about everyone she knew too. Lisa was always trying to stick people together, like it was her mission in life.

Charlie's voice cuts through my incoming emotional assault. "It's the darkest roast we got, plus honey and a few dashes of cayenne."

"Honey? In coffee?" I take another sip and swallow down my incredulity.

"Hey, you love it don't you?"

"That I do." I smile kindly and offer her my credit card.

"No way." Charlie said with her arms going across her chest. "You saved my ass, that one's on me today."

I want to argue, but after the groceries yesterday I can't afford not to take her up on her offer. I do pull a few dollar bills from my wallet though, and stick them in the _Star Wars_ jar.

"Man, I knew I liked you for a reason." Charlie beamed. "Nice choice Dean."

"Thanks." I give her a genuine smile, and hope it reaches my eyes. "I got to get to work. Thanks for the coffee Charlie."

"No problem. Will I see you again soon?"

Normally when someone says those words to me, I naturally assume there is some ulterior motive at work, but with Charlie there is just something about her that makes me feel positive she isn't hitting on me. "Yeah, you can pretty much count on it."

"Awesome!" She smiles again and then is turning back towards the back counter, taking a rag and wiping it down. "See ya!"

"Later."

As I make my way back to the exit, I notice a cork board with advertisements for various services and events. One in particular grabs my attention and I stare long and hard at it before heading back towards the counter.

Charlie turns back, looking startled for a second before smiling easily up at me. "Back so soon?"

"Uh-yeah." I clear my throat to stall because I don't really know what is possessing me to ask this question, but I'm standing here now and don't see any way out of it. "I saw the flyer for the meetings you hold here Sunday nights."

"Oh yeah, are you in the program?" Charlie asks casually, as if it wasn't something that could unravel my carefully laid plan to keep my past hidden in one of the boxes still hugging the living room wall of the beach house.

"Yes." The word is out before I can stop myself and I cough through the sudden rush of blood to my cheeks.

"Cool, me too." Charlie smiles kindly and I relax a little. "Yeah, the meetings are every Sunday at nine. I know its kind of late, but I don't want to have to close up shop to have them and I kind of hate going to church."

"Yeah, that makes sense." I nod slightly as I work through my panic. "Well, uh- maybe I'll see you at the next one then."

"That would be very cool Dean." Charlie says, her voice calm and soothing.

"Great." I start backing away and bump into a display of coffee grinds, and I appreciate the hand that hides Charlie's laughter. "I'll- uh, see you."

"Kay, Later." She said again, this time waving me off and smiling widely.

This time I make it through the door and rejoice in the freezing air that cuts into my cheeks. Whatever it was that made me lay my shit out like that, is making me feel like an idiot now and I wish desperately to be able to take the last two minutes of my life back.

It's not that I'm ashamed to be in AA, it's more that I was kind of planning on not going through that crap anymore. One way or another, I thought I saw my last meeting when I went with Bobby back in Boston. If I decide to take that drink I've been thinking about and realize what a stupid idea it was, then maybe I'll find myself back in sitting around a circle with other alcoholics. But until then, I don't really see the need to go.

Although, there is a small voice in my head that sounds an awful lot like my wife's, that tells me the fact that I'm considering even taking a drink at all should tell me I need to go to a meeting.

I sigh heavily and take another sip of my _un-freaking-believable_ coffee as I begin my one block trek to the auto shop.

Overall, I'm pretty sure landing the job at the shop was a gift from whatever heaven still willing to cater to me. Turns out, Benny is a pretty stand up guy, and didn't care too much for showing more than absolutely necessary. By the end of the day I knew where to eat my lunch, which brands we dealt with, and where to take my afternoon shit. Besides that, he figured out all I needed was a car in the bay and I'd be set. Their computer system is pretty similar to the one Bobby uses so I don't think it'll take me all that long to have it down either. My first day runs very smoothly and I'm clocking out by six.

I decide to make the steak I picked up at the grocery store for dinner tonight and toss it on the small charcoal grill I had placed in the back yard when I started renting the place out. I also roast some potatoes in the oven that are under cooked when I take them out, but I eat them anyway. I take my meal outside and eat it while watching the tide roll in.

It's only seven thirty by the time I'm finished and I decide to make the walk to _Loki's Palace_ so I have something more than my own thoughts to listen to for the rest of the night. I'm tempted to drive there instead of walk because of how much the temperature had dropped throughout the day, but I decide to just add an extra layer under my sweater and commit to the journey.

I do walk quickly though, and make it to the bar much faster than I had the previous night.

The warm heat of the bar surrounds me as I step through the door and I find a certain amount of comfort at seeing Gabe behind the bar.

He spots me too, and his casual smirk widens into a full on grin. "Dean-o! Welcome back!"

He waves me forward and I'm about to offer him a small smile of my own before I notice the man sitting at the bar to the left of Gabe. His hair is an unkempt mess of dark tresses and he is leaning back in his angled bar stool, his legs propped up on the chairs next to him and his hand resting on the drink in front of him. His five o'clock shadow looks like it has seen more of this day than it would have liked, and his lips are curled into a half smirk that I find difficult to look away from.

"Didn't scare you off then?" Gabe continues as I finally take my eyes off the man and bring them back to Gabriel, my feet taking me to the bar. I pick a seat a few down from the ones the man is casually resting his feet on and give Gabe a strained smile.

"Nah. You're not so bad."

"Ah," Gabe clutched his heart in mock adoration. "You certainly know the way to a man's heart."

"Yeah, I'm good like that." I say back with a level of confidence I didn't expect myself capable of, considering how aware I am of the man sitting a few chairs down from me.

"Dinner?" Gabe asks, turning to grab a menu.

"No, just a club soda with lime."

Gabe nods and begins to make my drink, and my attention is drawn to the snicker I hear coming from the man I am very carefully avoiding to look at. Out of the corner of my eye though, I can see that he is staring at me, and it makes me feel bold enough to bring my eyes to his in a slow roll that makes the man grunt out another laugh.

"Care to share with the rest of the class?" The words are out of my mouth before I can think them through, but my shock is easily covered by relief when the man smiles back at me.

"No food, club soda." The man shrugs as I take in the course gravel of his voice. It reminds me of an engine of a classic car purring to life and I feel myself tense under its weight.

"So tell me," He leans forward off the back of his bar stool and somehow lowers his voice even more. "Why does a recovered alcoholic widower choose to spend his free time surrounded by alcohol?"


	7. Broadripple is Burning

My mouth goes dry and I'm sure my eyes grow two or three sizes before I can control them. Thoughts begin to fly across my mind as I try to figure out how this man knows these things about me. The recovered alcoholic part I can understand, ordering a club soda at a bar is a pretty big tell. But knowing my wife is dead? How the hell did he pull that?

"Back off Cassie, Dean is new in town. We should try and ease him in to your special brand of company." Gabriel says kindly, placing my drink in front of me and glaring at the man he called Cassie.

The name doesn't suit him at all, his rugged appearance and the hard lines of his face demanding something stronger than a name I associate with girls in pigtails.

Gabe's comment earns him another snicker from the man, and his eyes are on the bartender then. "Your insistence on that nickname is getting rather tiresome Gabriel."

My eyebrows raise at that and turn back to Gabe. "Gabriel?"

The bartender snorts and shrugs his shoulders. "What did you think Gabe was short for, Gabrina?"

"Maybe." I answer back smoothly and then turn my head to face the mystery that is the man sitting down the bar. "Cassie, is it?"

I receive a glare for that, and I almost expect the man not to reply but then his lips are moving and I find myself tensing in anticipation. "Castiel." He pulls his drink to his mouth and sips quickly, licking the remnants off his lips as he replaces his glass back on the bar. The amber liquid draws my attention from his lips for an instant, but I shut my eyes quickly and turn back towards my own.

"Are you aware that the neon sign on your forehead is blinking?" Castiel says in a gruff voice that makes his statement sound more like an irritated accusation, than a joke.

The question throws me off for a second, but then I remember his earlier comment and sigh in annoyance. "Am I that easy to read?"

"Yes." There is no hesitation in his reply. "Were you trying to be discreet?"

"Kind of." I answer honestly, taking another sip of my drink.

"Pity." Castiel says quietly behind the rim of his glass. I watch as his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and I find myself mimicking the action, licking my lips to coat them in lime.

"Come now boys," Gabe interrupts. "Let's play nice."

"Just making conversation Gabriel." His tone is casual, but I can hear tension under his words.

"Sure you are." The bartender responds back quickly, a wide grin on his face that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "How'd your first day go Dean?"

I feel somewhat exposed under the question, like Gabe is giving Castiel more ammunition to analyze me with. I'm still reeling from the fact that he was able to pull my file so easily, so I don't have enough faculties to come up with anything better than the truth. "Fine. Pretty good actually."

"Yeah? Rufus can be a ripe asshole when he wants to." Gabe says back. There is a snicker from beside me, but I resist the urge to look.

"How do you know him?" I ask, mostly just to keep myself distracted from what fees like an industrial sized magnet pulling my attention down the bar.

"I take my Jeep there, best prices in town." Gabe begins washing glasses in the sink behind the bar and my eyes watch attentively. "But his bedside manner could use some work."

"Oh, well, he seemed alright to me. Said I was doing him a favor."

Gabe nodded and shrugged a little. "Good for you then." He turned his attention to Castiel whose hand is outstretched slightly, pushing his empty glass away from himself. "You going to use your big boy words or just pantomime what you want?"

"Eat a dick Gabriel." Castiel says in a sweet tone that doesn't match his words and it forces me to look at him. He is batting his eyelashes at the bartender, which makes it impossible not to notice how incredibly long they are. They fall against his cheeks in a dark wide fan that's almost mesmerizing. There are lines around his eyes and mouth as he pulls his lips up in a wide grin, and there is a glint in his eyes that makes me feel a sort of excitement I haven't felt since- well, I don't know how long.

"Gladly." Gabriel answers back quickly, picking up Castiel's glass and pouring whiskey into it. "Any particular dick you have in mind?"

That pulls a laugh from me and I turn my attention to Gabe, who is eyeing me cautiously. It occurs to me he is waiting for my reaction to his apparent lack of heterosexuality, so I smile back at him easily, teeth and all. "I'm off the market buddy, maybe some other time."

There is a flicker of surprise on Gabe's face, but then he is laughing and nodding dramatically. "I may take you up on that one, Dean-o."

I take, what I hope is a subtle glance in Castiel's direction, and find that he is pretty openly staring at me again. I try to ignore it, but it's like the guy is burning holes into the side of my head and very quickly I am turning to face him with a scowl on my face. "What?"

"How long?" He says back, not at all affected by my harsh tone.

I blink a few times, trying to figure out what the hell he is talking about on my own, before finally breaking down and asking him.

He quirks his left eyebrow up, and the motion does something to my dick instantly, but guilt pulls it back down just as quickly. "How long will you be off the market?"

I know my mouth is hanging open, but I can't bring myself to move the muscles in my jaw to close it. "Uh..." I feel like an idiot for not saying something smooth or cool, but I honestly don't know how to respond to the question.

The truth is, the very idea of pursuing anyone at the moment kind of turns my stomach. I had been preparing for Lisa's death for over a year, but she only died a little over three months ago. I still think of her more than anything else, I still wish it was she who was sitting next to me at this bar, I still cry in my sleep. I don't think I'm ready to move on with someone else. Even if I was though, three months doesn't seem like enough time to be respectful to Lisa. It may be stupid, but part of me feels like moving on quickly would be like I didn't love Lisa enough to mourn her longer.

None of these things help me come up with something to say, though, to the expectant asshole who has thrown the question at me.

Thankfully, Gabe comes to my rescue.

"God, could you be anymore of a douchebag?" He is half-smiling, and shaking his head at Castiel. "Tell me, do you make it a point to make people uncomfortable, or is it just a happy accident?"

"A little of both I think." Castiel answers back, his eyes still on mine and not letting me go. "If Dean doesn't want to answer, he doesn't have to."

Well, I guess that means I'm going to have to come up with something to say.

Shit.

"For the foreseeable future." I say it with a hint of irritation that I hope hides the apprehension in my voice. "What's it to you?"

Castiel places his hands behind his head and smirks. "Just planning out the rest of my week."

My shoulders shake with amusement despite the forwardness of the comment, and the smile I give him is softer than I intend it to be. "It'll be a helluva lot longer than a week buddy, especially for you."

He returns my smile, but it's more predatory than anything else.

"We'll see."

I spend Saturday helping the older lady next door lay out mulch in her garden. I was preparing to go for a run, but I saw her struggling with the bags and silently thanked the world for a reason to skip the run.

Being alone with my thoughts is just about the last thing I wanted to do today.

Last night had been a very specific kind of hell. Castiel didn't say much more after making me feel like his prey, but he didn't have to speak to turn my entire world upside down.

If I'm being completely honest with myself, hell yes I'm attracted to that man. I accepted who I am around the time I entered AA, and I find no shame in who I am attracted to. My father, of course, wouldn't agree with my lack of shame, but that story goes so much deeper than just me liking dudes. I may have taken up drinking as an escape from my own (at the time) repressed sexuality, but I only kept it up because of my father's reaction to the truth. My mom was more open, albeit confused, but my father straight up told me it was disgusting and I needed help.

I don't carry those words with me anymore. I've let them go and no longer let them affect me. My peace came too late though, the damage had already been done and my little brother Sam paid the price. It's a fact that haunts me, more so now that I'm alone and don't have Lisa to keep me strong. His death pushes at the edges of my sobriety, far more aggressively than it did when I had her.

And now I had Castiel seeping into my thoughts as well. It doesn't help that he is ridiculously good-looking, or that the way he looks at me makes me feel like I'm about to be swallowed whole, which I somehow find oddly comforting.

Every time I think of Castiel for more than a few seconds, though, grief and guilt pushes down any arousal that threatens to rise. It's too soon, and I'm just not ready for this. Besides, I think it would give him a certain level of satisfaction to get in my pants, and there is something in me that doesn't want to give it to him. It's fairly obvious Castiel is used to getting what he wants in that regard, and I feel pretty damn powerful not being another notch on his bed post.

I generally don't like playing games, and typically I'm a pretty straight forward guy when it comes to sex and relationships. With him though, I feel like it's impossible to approach this the way I would have with anyone else. Usually I would just tell him, straight up, that my wife just died and I'm not interested in getting involved with anyone, but something in me refused to get those words out last night.

Helping my elderly neighbor Grace, distracts me enough to get me through most of Saturday. I only think of Castiel once, and I quickly replace his face with Lisa's. It was an odd practice, but I feel like I owe it to her to only be imagining her face right now. The moment her image was pasted in my mind though, my heart hurt more than it had all day.

By the time I make it to bed, I am actively avoiding thinking about Castiel. No matter what I do though, he keeps creeping into my thoughts like the snake in The Garden, tempting me into something I know I'm not ready for. I play with the idea of letting my resolve to not think of him go, and experiment with fantasizing about him, but guilt prevents me from getting much farther than picturing his face.

It feels wrong, like I'm betraying Lisa.

I don't know what possesses me to go through with it, but I find myself at the coffee shop door at 8:55pm Sunday night. The walk over was brutal, but I needed the time to chicken out if I wanted to.

I take a deep breath and close my hand over the handle, pulling the door open and letting the warmth of the shop coax me inside. I notice right away that the seating has changed slightly, and that there are more chairs and couches towards the back. They are arranged in a makeshift circle, which I want to roll my eyes at, but suppress.

"You made it!" A familiar eager voice rings in my ears and I smile at the young red-headed woman bouncing towards me. "I wasn't sure I'd see you, you seemed a little skiddish before."

I chuckle hesitantly and nod. "Yeah, well I guess that's an accurate description."

"No worries, you don't have to talk or anything today." She places her hand on my arm and leads me to the group who has begun to sit down.

"Alright. Sounds good." I take a seat on a worn red couch that is far more comfortable than it looks. Beside me is an older man with a belly like Santa Claus, and next to him is a younger guy, no more than eighteen. On my other side is a woman in her thirties, dressed in a pants suit and looking entirely out of place in the coffee shop. Charlie takes the seat opposite me, and begins speaking to a woman with bright blue hair. They speak softly, and Charlie's hand goes up to tuck the girl's hair behind her ears. It's incredibly intimate and I'm suddenly left questioning if there are any straight people in this town.

Charlie turns back towards the group and clears her throat to begin the meeting. It's fairly normal, the typical introductions and mantras being spouted. I share my name and where I'm from, but nothing else. The rest of the group shares a little more, including Charlie who tells us it's her birthday tomorrow and that one year on her birthday when she was drunk and high, she and her foster brother vandalized a cosmetic lab where animal testing took place. She recounts the tail with both pride and shame.

By the time the meeting is finished, I know more about the old man sitting next to me than I do my own father, but instead of sadness I feel encouraged.

"So, what'd you think?" Charlie approaches me as people spread the chairs and couches back out to their original placements.

"I liked it." I shrug and keep my face soft. "Less preachy than what I'm used to, so that's good."

"Nice. Kinda what we're going for here." Charlie smiles at me then looks over my shoulder. Her smile falters for a second as she looks on, but then she is turning back to me and her eyes are bright once more. "We still do the drinks and snacks after, that was always the best part of these things anyway."

"Agreed." I nod and she pats my shoulder to indicate I should help myself to the donuts laid out on the counter beside us. Charlie walks around me and my head follows her path.

My stomach jumps into my throat as I see who is waiting for her at the front of the shop.

Half laying, half sitting, on a couch next to the front door is Castiel.

He is watching Charlie walk towards him and he has an affectionate smile on his lips. She leans down to kiss his forehead, and something in me stirs, but then she is punching his shoulder and his laughter echoes around the shop.

Its a booming sort of laughter that reaches every vessel of my heart and I cringe because this is definitely not how I want to be feeling right now, but it seems my body has plans of its own.


	8. Monster

I can't hear what Charlie and Castiel are talking about, but suddenly his eyes are on me instead of Charlie and he winks. He fucking winks at me, and I want to jump out of the nearest window, but I roll my eyes instead because its the only thing my body is capable of.

I turn back towards the donuts and notice the blue haired chick is trying to get my attention, so I attempt to give it to her and block all noises from the front of the shop out of my mind. The girl is soft spoken, and I remember her name is Gilda. I am having trouble hearing her over my own screaming inner monologue, but I try to hone in on her, and only her as she talks about her castle, _castle?_ , and the game she and Charlie play on the weekends.

Due to my extreme concentration, I don't hear the footsteps behind me.

I don't have time for the mini-panic attack that threatens my cool exterior, though, because Charlie is by my side in the next moment, joining the conversation.

Slightly behind her, and closer to me, is Castiel. I'm surprised to find him only slightly shorter than myself, and without the bar stools in the way, I can tell he is lean but muscular under his clothes. He is wearing a green jacket that looks like it could have come from an Army surplus store, over a grey Henley. His jeans are faded and ripped in multiple places, and they sit very low on his waist. He is staring down at the donut selection and licking his lips and it reminds me that there is something other than his lips to look at, and I turn back towards the donuts as well.

There is one more jelly filled donut and I reach out to take it, but Castiel's hand is faster and snakes it past me.

"My apologies," There's a twitch on his lips when I look back at him and I hope my glare shows how unamused I am.

Then my breath gets caught in a strangled choke because his tongue is flicking out to lick the powder off the donut in a quick swipe, claiming it for himself. "Did you want this Dean?"

His lips still hold the too innocent looking smirk when I finally come to my senses enough to realize he had asked me a question. A stupid, douchey question, but a question nonetheless. I'm about to tell him where he can stick that donut when he is suddenly extending the hand that still holds the pastry, and offering it to me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I know exactly what possesses me to take the donut out of his hand.

I want to do precisely the opposite of whatever he thinks I am going to do. I want to wipe that cocky little smirk off his face and show him I'm not whoever it is he has pegged me to be. I want to prove to him, and maybe myself too, that he doesn't affect me the way he thinks he does.

I take the donut with a cocky smile of my own, and take a bite. I can feel the powder coating my lips and probably some of my chin too, but I don't care. I smile through the donut, enjoying every ounce of surprise that is radiating off of Castiel's face.

"So I take it you two have met?" Charlie asks suspiciously, both her and Gilda eyeing us with intrigued smiles.

'Not officially." Castiel says back, eyes still a little wider than normal. His pupils are overtaking, what I now notice to be, the most vibrantly blue irises I've ever seen. I think that maybe that's what diamonds would look like, if they were covered in the crystal blue waters of the deepest ocean. There is something about them that draws me in, unrelenting in their pull on my attention.

It occurs to me too late that I've been writing poetry about this guys eyes, while he is still talking about how we know each other.

"-did my best to show him a proper welcome." He is looking at me with a knowing smirk and I roll my eyes again.

I may not know what he said before that, but I'm confident it was full of just as much bullshit.

"Is that what that was?" I ask with a cock of my brow, challenging him.

"More or less." He says back, a subtle shrug of his shoulders indicating he had no intention of elaborating.

I decide to bite the bullet though, and extend my hand. "Dean Winchester. Nice to meet you Castiel..." I trail off and wait for my hand to be filled with his.

He eyes me for a moment, and then looks down at my hand with an almost irritated look on his face. Charlie nudges him with her elbow though, and then Castiel is rolling his eyes and slipping his hand into mine. "Novak."

It takes me all the strength I posses not to hold his hand longer than the two seconds necessary, to shake it. There is a sort of lightening strike when our hands meet though, that sends jolts of energy through my entire body. I drop his hand almost immediately after the shake and Castiel is wearing the smirk I am quickly learning to despise. It makes me want to scream because I think maybe he knows why I let go of his hand so fast.

"Cas here-" Charlie starts but Castiel interrupts her.

"Was just leaving." He says it casually, as if he wasn't purposely cutting her off. Castiel gives me another long look that makes me feel like each and every one of my freckles is being categorically analyzed, and I clear my throat awkwardly when I break his gaze. It's frustrating, this _thing_ he does to me, and I want nothing to do with it for the time being.

He turns to place a kiss on Charlie's temple.

"I'll call you later!" She says to the back of his head as Castiel makes his exit. He waves her off without looking back.

Charlie turns back to me and gives me an apologetic smile. "Sorry about him." She shrugs as if to tell me there is nothing she can do about it. "Castiel can be a bit abrasive until you get to know him."

"Abrasive." I repeat. "That's one way to describe him."

"Are there more appropriate adjectives?" She presses, a coy look in her eye.

So far, there are quite a few adjectives I would attribute to Castiel. Intense, sexy as hell, irritatingly perceptive, confident to a fault...

"Asshole." I respond, because its much easier to get that word out than any of the others.

"That's a noun." Gilda says quietly, a knowing shine to her eyes.

I decide to end my evening on the beach.

Despite the cold weather and cutting wind, I find the sound of the waves and the give of the sand beneath me, calming. I have several layers on but I still bring the blanket to wrap around myself.

The moon is already high in the sky, and its light reflects off of the rippling water. I can make out the other side of the bay better at night, the street lamps illuminate the curve of the land, outlining it perfectly. It serves as a concrete reminder of the world outside of myself, and that it continues without my permission. Not that I am so egocentric to believe life needs my approval, or that my life could matter to anyone other than the few people I have encountered over the course of it.

But still, its easy to forget these things when I'm constantly living a life revolving around myself. It's difficult to remember there is more than my pain in this world, when its one of the only things that remind me I'm still alive.

It was the _only_ thing, until a few days ago.

Meeting that douche-hole Castiel has definitely brought me closer to feeling _something_ other than grief. I can't quite figure out what it is I feel when I'm around him, but whatever it is, its unlike anything I've felt before. It's like my skin is crawling and flaming at the same time. My heart starts pounding in my chest and my mouth goes drier than one of those pretentious red wines that I'll never understand why people pretend to enjoy.

But the strange thing is, he also makes me feel bolder. I feel like his confidence flows through the air, and empowers me just as much as it unnerves me. My words are more clever, but less thought out when I'm around him. He pulls something from me that I haven't felt in years, if ever. I don't have a word for it, the closest thing would probably be _passion_.

I want to think about that some more, but my guilt prevents me from getting too far. Thinking of my relationship with Lisa as anything short of perfect seems incredibly disrespectful, and I don't want to go there. But if I'm being completely honest with myself, passion is not a word I would use to describe our relationship. That's not to say that we didn't have hot sex, because we certainly knew how to fuck each other's brains out, but it's becoming more obvious that passion doesn't just exist during sex.

In only the few moments I've spent with Castiel, I've felt more challenged, more _alive_ , than I ever have before. It's incredibly frightening when I realize this, and I'm close to pushing it away and calling my feelings ridiculous, but then there is movement on the beach just a few yards away, and my incoming emotional panic attack is put on hold.

Its hard to be sure in the darkness, but if my pulse is any kind of meter, the man who was just monopolizing my thought is walking towards me.

He is looking down at his own feet and is dressed differently that he was at the coffee shop. His legs are clad in a pair of thin black sleep pants and his chest is covered in a zip-up hooded sweatshirt. As he gets closer, and my hope that the man is anyone other than Castiel Novak (including a mugger or serial killer) is dashed, I notice the bareness of his collarbone, and thin curls of chest hair poking out above the zipper of this sweatshirt where it isn't pulled up.

He is only a few yards away from me now, but his eyes still haven't looked up. I have a fleeting thought that maybe he doesn't see me sitting here, but his path is practically a beeline to my place in the sand, and there is no doubting his destination.

I begin to panic and wonder if there is a chance that I could escape. It seems like an eternity ago now, but it was only moments before that I was beginning to dissect my feelings for this man, or at least the way I feel when I'm around him. With those thoughts so fresh in my mind, his approach threatens the walls I was just in the process of building up.

Castiel's pace slows as he reaches me, and I look up to him as he stands above me. There is a cigarette in his hand, and the smell is a reminder of how obnoxious he can be. I steel myself to whatever snarky comment is about to come out of his mouth, but nothing comes. Instead, Castiel finally meets my gaze and just looks down at me for a long moment, his blue eyes catching the moonlight in a way that makes them look like they are glowing. It's unnerving at first, but it isn't longer than a second before I find it easy to settle into the stare, and hold the silence.

After a long beat of whatever it is we were doing, Castiel takes another step forward and sits down beside me. It occurs to me that I must look rather silly with the blanket wrapped around me like this, but I get no sign from the man beside me that I am about to get shit for it.

I keep waiting for him to say something, but nothing ever comes. His shoulder is close enough to feel it's heat through my blanket, which means his temperature must rival that of the sun's.

The time for greetings passes without any words spoken, and I contemplate breaking the silence to say something- _anything_ \- but I let the moment breathe instead. I don't know what I would say if I really thought about it anyway, and I'm afraid to open my mouth for fear of what might come tumbling out. Castiel doesn't seem to feel the need to speak either, and soon we are both just looking out to the ocean, our sides pressed into one another slightly.

I'm not sure how long we sit there in silence, but I am positive it is the most encaptured I've ever felt, without a single word being spoken.


	9. We're Going to be Friends

"If it weren't for Rufus, I wouldn't know you were even alive boy." Bobby is trying to sound angry, but I know it's all talk.

"Pipe down old man, I'm fine." I placate, doing my best to sound well-adjusted and amused. "I was going to call a few days ago, but I just got busy."

"Busy? What are you doing down there? You staying out of trouble?"

"I'm not drinking Bobby." My voice huffs slightly as I speak. Bobby caught me on my walk to the coffee shop before work, and I didn't think I could dodge his calls another day. "I even went to a meeting last night."

"Yeah?" Bobby sounds genuinely surprised and I'm not sure how I feel about that. "That's... that's good Dean. Glad to hear it."

"Yep." I can see the coffee shop just a few hundred yards ahead and it gives me a reason to end the call. It's not that I don't appreciate Bobby's worry for me, I just don't want to have to listen to it, knowing there is a very sound reason for his concern. I like to pretend he is just an overprotective father figure and that I'm not actually on the brink of something I can't come back from.

"Listen, I'm about to grab some coffee. I'll call Ellen tonight, okay?"

"Yeah, alright. Take care of yourself boy."

"Will do."

I hang up with a harsher press to the screen than necessary and stuff my phone in my jacket pocket, right as I reach the door to the coffee shop.

I find myself smiling as I open the door, and assume it's because I'm looking forward to the redheaded ray of sunshine waiting for me on the other side. I'm not disappointed as my eyes find the counter and see Charlie preparing another customer's drink. She is yapping away about something I can't even begin to understand, but it still widens my smile as I take my place in line.

Charlie spots me as she hands the drink to the waiting customer and she grins enthusiastically. "Dean!"

"Hey Charlie."

"So is this going to be a regular thing, then?" She questions, her head tilted slightly. "Stopping in for coffee before work?"

"You complaining?" I ask, my eyebrows raising comically.

"Not in the slightest." She pulls a cup from the stack and tips it towards me. "You want your special?"

" _God_ yes." It sounds like I'm begging, and I probably am, because, _holy shit_ , that coffee has been on my mind for days.

"Alright, keep it in your pants." Charlie teases. She begins making my drink and I look down to the tip jars for the day. The jar on the right has a note card that has _Gandalf_ written in neat script, the one on the left says _Dumbledore_.

I know I should recognize the second name, and I almost do, but it's just not coming to me. "Is it bad that I don't know who one of these guys is?"

Charlie stops what she is doing and places the coffee cup on the counter slowly. When she looks at me, her eyes are wide and her chest is moving faster than it was a moment ago. "Dean." She says it's almost like a whisper. "Please tell me you are joking."

"Uh...no?" I give her an apologetic smile. "I know Gandalf, of course, and I've definitely heard of the other one somewhere, I just can't place it." I can tell she is doing her best not to have a tantrum, so I try another contrite gesture. "Is it that bad that I don't know?"

Charlie looks like she is about to say something, but stops herself. Instead, she swallows hard and looks back down at my half made coffee and gets back to it. I can tell she is thinking hard as she places the lid on the top and pushes it towards me. Her eyes are still on the coffee and her lips are pursed.

I hand some cash to her hesitantly, unsure of my line. "Dude, did I just render you speechless?"

"No." She says quickly, shaking her head. "I'm trying to figure out when we can fit in a Harry Potter marathon." She pulls out her phone and is scrolling through something before I can interject. "I've got my birthday party tonight," She looks up quickly, "To which you are totally invited by-the-by." Her eyes go back down to her phone and she is scrolling again. "How about Friday? I don't have to work Saturday so we could get through them all."

"What?" I just barely understand what she is saying.

"Dean." She says it like an expletive and it makes me wince. "We absolutely cannot be the best friends I intend us to be, if you haven't seen Harry Potter."

There is a pull at the corner of my lips at her insistence at being my friend and it keeps me from grimacing at my new weekend plans. "How many are there?"

"Seven- well, eight since the last movie was broken into two." Charlie answers back, a bounce in her shoulders. "You will watch them, and you will love them."  
I don't see a way out of it, and if I'm being honest with myself, I don't really want to get out of it. Spending time with Charlie, even if it's watching movies I have yet to give a fuck about, sounds pretty awesome. "Yes, Ma'am."

Her scowl turns into a blinding smile and I chuckle. "It doesn't take much to make you happy does it?" I push the cash towards her and she takes it.

"Nope." The register chimes as it opens. "Oh, and I am serious about tonight. You should come."

It takes me a moment to remember what she is talking about, and then I nod as something about a birthday party comes to mind. "Your birthday, huh?"

"Yep. Gilda and Dorothy are doing this whole theme thing. Should be fun."

I don't have any plans for the evening, and it sounds a hell of a lot more fun than sitting around my house or listening to Gabe talk about his dalliances in amateur porn. "Alright, sounds good."

There is a sudden flip to my stomach as I remember how close Charlie and Castiel seemed to be, and I wonder if he will be at the party too.

The other night on the beach had been unlike anything I had ever experienced before.

There were multiple points where I felt like I should say something, or I was waiting for something to come out of those chapped, nicotine soaked lips.

But nothing ever did.

We just sat there, staring at the moon and the way the water shinned under it. It was bewildering and exhilarating, and it fucked me up completely.

Who does that? Who just sits next to someone and says nothing?

It felt like hours, but maybe it was only a few minutes before he was standing and I thought I heard him sigh as he stood, but I couldn't be sure. There was an insane moment where my mouth almost invited him inside, but thankfully, it stayed shut.

We exchanged a long stare before he turned and walked back in the direction he had come from. It was charged with so much tension, I felt like my throat was closing up from the sheer weight of his attention. It was like I was being crushed by his eyes, and I couldn't do anything but push everything right back to him.

When he did finally turn away, my shoulders fell considerably, no longer required to hold up whatever walls I had built against Castiel. I was suddenly weightless, but also empty, like I had just lost a piece of myself.

The previous night continued to wash over me as Charlie hands me my change and I stuff a couple dollars into the _Gandalf_ jar.

Her eyebrows raise and she balks. "You can't even make an informed decision Dean. Your vote is invalid."

I put my hand back in the jar and finger the money inside. "So I should just take this back then?" There is a playful smile on my lips and Charlie tries to hide her own.

"No, you jerk!" She slaps my hand away and I pick up my coffee with it. "So will I see you tonight?"

I don't think because there isn't anything that would keep me from chasing that feeling of being around Castiel again. "Yeah, where am I going?"

"I'm off Cedar. The little blue house near the Children's Beach House?"

"Yeah, I have no idea where that is."

She pulls out a pen and writes down her address on a napkin. "Here. Just put it in your phone." Her eyes brighten for a second and then Charlie is holding her hand out. "Better yet, give me your phone."

I eye her suspiciously for a second, but comply almost immediately. I sip my coffee as she pulls my phone from me.

Once my phone is in her hands, she is typing and then I hear some sort of medieval music coming from her pocket. "There. You've got my number, and I've got yours. I put my address in there too." She hands my phone back to me.

"Cool." I look down at the screen to see that Charlie has named herself _Queen of Moondor_ in my contacts list. I chuckle as I realize I want nothing more than to spend my morning shooting the shit with Charlie, but the clock on my phone tells me I should get moving. "I gotta go to work. I'll see you tonight."

I give her a slight bow. "Happy Birthday, _Your Highness_.

It takes me a half hour to get dressed, and it makes me feel like a fucking idiot. I shouldn't be trying so hard to look good tonight, since even though I can't stop thinking about this guy, I don't actually want anything to happen between us.

At least, not right now. Everything is too raw, too fresh.

But still, I don't exactly want to show up looking like someone Castiel _wouldn't_ want to bend over the nearest table and fuck senseless. There's nothing wrong with trying to affect him the way he does me, maybe I can screw with his head a little too, just as retaliation.

I end up in dark jeans and a green and blue plaid shirt that Lisa once told me I looked "positively fuckable" in.

I figure that's exactly what I'm going for.

By the time I pull up to the little blue house, I'm cursing my decision to go through with the night. Despite my affection for Charlie, and my apparent hard-on for Castiel, I don't know if walking into a house full of people I don't know is really what I want right now. In fact, I've never enjoyed going to parties, especially ones where I don't know anyone. It was just an immediate reaction to accept the invite, the prospect of seeing Castiel again pushing me to answer before I could think it through.

I take a deep breath and resign myself to the night, reciting _"I will not let Castiel fuck with my head"_ over and over as I exit my car.

There is music coming from the house, and lanterns strewn around the screened-in front porch. I can just make out two figures standing in front of the door, their bodies locked together in an intimate embrace. I'm already walking towards them so I don't want to be awkward and turn around, so I just clear my throat and look away as they pull apart.

Just as I'm reaching the door to the screenediin porch, I catch a glimpse of red hair and my anxiety lifts.

"Dean! You made it!" Charlie beams, moving towards me and pulling me into a hug. "Yay!"

I laugh and look over Charlie's shoulder to a blushing Gilda and give her a wink. "Of course. Said I would, didn't I?"

Charlie pulls back and I smile down at her. "Yeah, well, I still wasn't sure. You don't really seem like the partying type."

"You got me there." I laugh again. "But I figured I'd regret it if I didn't show."

"Damn straight." Charlie pulls me towards the front door of the house. "Come on, let me introduce you to some people." She places a quick kiss on Gilda's cheek as she passes her.

"Alright, alright. I'm coming." I say, pulling my arm back to myself. I follow her inside the house and I'm immediately accosted by images from _The Wizard of Oz_. There is a plastic yellow brick road leading from the door and into the house, as well as multiple posters of Oz along the walls. There aren't that many people inside, which lulls some of my social anxiety, and only a few of them are dressed to match the apparent theme. I am grateful that I don't look out of place as Charlie begins to introduce me to her friends.

I smile and shake hands, and try to keep my eyes on the people I meet, but I can't help but scan the room every so often for a set of blue eyes or that impossible smirk. The sight never finds me though, and I begin to feel discouraged as the night matures and there is no sign of Castiel.

I am talking with Charlie and her friend Dorothy, trying desperately not to imagine the cocky bastard strutting in any moment, when his name pulls me out of my own head.

"It's a shame Cas couldn't be here." Dorothy says into her red solo cup. She is looking up at me as if she knows his absence affects me as much as it does. Charlie elbows her side and then I know I've been made, but I refuse to openly admit defeat, so I scrunch my eyes in a confused expression.

"Who?" I sip on my soda and try to hide the blood that I know to be rushing to my cheeks.

"Castiel Novak." Dorothy repeats, a glimmer of a smile hinting at her lips. "It's too bad he isn't here to help Charlie celebrate."

"Oh." I nod, as if just understanding. "Yeah, I guess so. You and he pretty close Charlie?"

"You could say that." Charlie says coyly. "Cas and I go way back."

That interests me far more than it should, but I'm afraid if I ask about it, I will give away even more. "So why isn't he here?"

Charlie's eyes widen minutely, but even out quickly. "Business trip."

That has me reeling because under no circumstances do I see Castiel being the type to hold down a typical job. "What does he do?"

"He's a staff writer for PETA." Charlie answers almost too quickly.

"Oh yeah?" I say back slowly. There is something that isn't being said, and I don't know what it is, but I can tell Charlie is holding something back.

"So he is off interviewing someone or something?"

"Uh- not exactly..." Charlie says distractedly, decidedly not looking at me as she searches the room. "Hey!" She calls to a guy across the room. "Don't put that there!"

She moves quickly away from me and across the room to where a tall guy with a mullet is putting his drink on top of her television. I turn back to Dorothy, who is smiling over at Charlie affectionately. The way she is looking at her makes me think that she is definitely pining after the redheaded beauty.

"What was that all about?" I ask.

"She loves her television." Dorothy answers back, still not pulling her eyes from Charlie.

"No, I mean the thing about Castiel." I push, "Charlie wasn't really clear about what he is doing tonight."

Dorothy's eyes shoot over to mine. "Oh, well- I don't know." Her tone goes ultra-casual, very quickly. "Castiel isn't exactly a sharer. If you want to read some of his stuff though, I think you'd get a better idea about what he does."

"Oh." I answer back dumbly.

"But the stuff that really matters, the stuff that would really give you insight into...that's all written under a pseudonym."

"What's the name?"

"That," Dorothy smiles back at me before spotting someone over my shoulder and winking. "I can't tell you." She moves around me and I follow her path to see her approaching Gilda. The way Gilda is looking back at her, makes me think there is a lot more going on there than should be.

My suspicion is confirmed as Dorothy wraps her arms around Gilda's waist and places a chaste kiss on her lips. I don't know if I should feel confused or just down right pissed.

Was Gilda cheating on Charlie with Dorothy?

Was Dorothy cheating on Gilda with Charlie?

My eyes scan the room for Charlie, but she is no where to be seen. I start searching for her, not even sure about what I'm going to say when I find her, when a familiar smell pulls my attention and distracts me from my mission.

I follow the smell outside where I find the guy with a mullet taking a hit off of a joint.

"Hey man." The guy says kindly. "You're Dean right?"

"Yeah." I say back, my eyes focused hard on the roach between his hands. "That's me."

"Cool." He does a little wave, barely moving his hand in the process. "I'm Ash."

"Hiding from Charlie?" I say, wanting to keep the conversation going so maybe this guy will offer me a hit.

"Nah. She's all talk." He kicks at the empty plastic chair across from him. "Wanna smoke?"

I let out a breath of relief. "Yeah man, thanks."

It's been years since I got high, since technically I'm not supposed to. It doesn't affect me the way alcohol did, though, and I've never seen the need to avoid it completely.

Ash hands me the joint and I'm all too eager to get the smoke in my lungs and fall down the rabbit hole. I need to clear my head of Castiel, and this will definitely (hopefully) do the trick.

After the joint is passed back and forth a few times, and Charlie comes out once or twice to check on me, I find myself asking Ash about the status of Charlie's relationship.

"Oh," He says back slowly, the drug making his tongue heavy. "They're together."

"No shit dude. What I mean is, who is the couple? Who is the cheater?"

"No cheater man. They're _all_ together. All three of them." Ash's head dips back to catch the top of the chair and I think I raise mine up, but I cant be sure.

"All three? Like..." I trail off because I don't know what that's like. I didn't know that was actually a thing outside of porn.

"They're..uh..poly...something. Polyamority...amora...amorous...Polyamorous. Yeah, I think that's it."

"Huh." I say back, my head spinning and trying to catch up to the conversation. "That's...cool."

"Yeah." Ash says back. "They love each other like crazy hard."

I may say something else, but I don't know what it is.

The idea that three people can be in a committed relationship has me kind of freaked out, until it occurs to me how stupid that is. Even in my entirely inebriated state, I have enough sense to know that love is love. If three people want to be together, why the hell not? As long as they are happy, and no one is being hurt, why should it matter?

I smile to myself as I sit further back into my plastic chair and close my eyes.  
I have been pretty successful in keeping my mind off of the man who didn't show tonight, for the last hour or so. My accomplishment is pretty immediately thrown to the wind though, as the protective barrier my mind built around Castiel is destroyed by the drug flowing through my veins.

I close my eyes and all I see is blue.

I see hard lines that dance around jaded eyes and scruffy cheeks that beg to be touched. I hear gravel in my ears, and irritation in my own voice.

Darkness sets in, but I can see Castiel's bright coy smile clear as day.


	10. Undisclosed Desires

_"I just don't see why you do it." I say, my hand tracing Lisa's spine lightly. "Nothing changes, you know? It's not like you yelling and screaming with a sign in your hand actually makes a difference. You know?"_

 _Lisa eyes me for a second, and I'm sure she is about to roll her eyes and get pissy with me, but then she just sighs and lifts her hand to my cheek. "You're missing the point Dean. Maybe going down to the capital and rallying against something doesn't change the world right away, but doing it- actually getting off my ass and trying- that makes me feel like I've done something. It makes me feel like I've done my part."_

 _"But-"_

 _"You don't understand because you've never felt that strongly about anything." She interrupts._

 _"I care about stuff." I argue. "It's not like I'm all for racism, or whatever it is you're yelling about this weekend, it's just...I don't know- I guess I don't see the point."_

 _"That's it exactly babe." Lisa says softly. "Maybe one day something will stir you enough to care, or move you enough to want to scream at the top of your lungs for someone to listen." She smiles softly. "It doesn't make you a bad person that you don't see the point in rallying for every unjust, and inhumane thing that happens in this world."_

 _She is soothing the worry she knows has begun to take hold and I love her even more in that moment._

 _"I wish I could be more like you." I try to smile back. "You know, shout about stuff I care about and believe I'm being heard, that there is anyone out there even remotely interested in what I have to say."_

 _"You have it in you, Dean." She whispers against my lips. "You just have to find something you're passionate about first."_

It's full week before I make my way back to the bar.

After smoking up, thoughts of Castiel were quickly over taken by thoughts of my dead wife and guilt kept me from seeking him out. Her face haunted me in my sleep as well as in my waking hours, and I found it increasingly hard to keep her at bay. By the time my date with Charlie was upon me, I was closer than ever to buying a bottle of scotch and chasing it with a bottle of gin.

I spend all of Friday and most of Saturday at Charlie's place watching, I admit, one of the best freaking movie series in the history of everything, _ever_. Besides being absolutely in love with the entertainment, I found myself quickly becoming enamored with the entertainer as well.

Being around Charlie makes me feel more light, and carefree than anything else. I've never been close friends with a woman before, the few times I've tried always turned out pretty bad. I don't know if it's because she is in a relationship, or if it's because she is gay, but it just seems so natural to be around her. There is no pressure to preform, no pretenses to keep up. I'd like to think her relationship status and sexual orientation have nothing to do with why I feel so calm when I'm with her, though. I'd like to think she is just this kindred spirit who I am meant to befriend.

I carefully avoid going to the bar after Charlie's birthday party.

I really didn't like how much Castiel was monopolizing my thoughts before my wife took over, and I thought some distance might help keep my fantasies under control. I didn't see him on the beach at all either, and not seeing him was doing a lot of good things for my psyche.

It seemed ridiculous that I could have let some cocky son-of-a-bitch squirm his way under my skin, after just a few meetings. It had to have been my grief over losing Lisa that made me so vulnerable. I'm not the kind of guy that gets hung up on people so easily, especially a guy like Castiel.

So what if is his eyes are so blue I feel like I need a life preserver when I look into them? So what if his face is so infuriatingly gorgeous it makes Greek God's jealous with envy? So what if his smile is so damn cocky I want to stuff it with my dick just to see his lips grow wider around it?

Okay that last one got away from me a bit, but the point is, this guy isn't anything special. He just happens to be the first person I've been attracted to since Lisa died, and that doesn't make him extraordinary by any means.

By Sunday night I am confident my little crush has run its course.

I decide to drive to the bar tonight, instead of walk because the cold is just a little too sharp for my taste. I purposely didn't eat dinner at home so that I'd have a good excuse to be there tonight in case Mr. Knows-every-little-detail-about-me, is there.

When I step inside I am both relived and disappointed to find the bar practically deserted. I receive a warm welcome from Gabe though, who is standing on a chair to reach the top shelf of the glass cabinets where the lesser used liquors are stored.

"Need a hand?" I offer, grabbing a bar stool but not sitting down in case he takes me up on it.

"Nah, not really supposed to let you back here." Gabe says, the chair wobbling under his feet as he cleans the cabinet out. "This crap is all dusty and gross. I should just take them all down and throw them out."

"Since when do you care about following rules?" I challenge, a half-smile on my lips.

Gabe looks down at me for a second before shrugging. "Good point." He comes down off of the chair and waves an arm out as an invitation. "Be my guest."

I saunter around the other end of the bar and come behind it. I motion for Gabe to move out of the way, and he backs up comically and crosses his arms. "Maybe I should get on the other side, you know, enjoy the show a little better."

"You want me to do this or not?" I gripe, careful to sound more amused than annoyed.

"I surely do." Gabe answers back. "Just take down the bottles and I'll clean them down here. I'll give you a rag to rub down the cabinets when you're done."

"Sure thing boss." I give him a wink and set to work, rising up to my tip-toes to pull down the obscure bottles of liquor. "Who even drinks this crap?"

"Old people and foreigners." Gabe says back, taking his rag and cleaning the bottles off as I set them on the bar top.

After one of the cabinets is empty, I take off my jacket and throw it over the other side of the bar onto one of the stools. My button down shirt makes its way there a few moments later and soon I am just in a black t-shirt that hugs my chest and sneaks up my stomach when my hands are busy above me.

Sometime during the third and last cabinet wipe-down, the door to the bar opens and my eyes instinctively go down through my arms to see who came inside. I don't want to get Gabe into any trouble, and I want to know if I need to move to the other side.

My stomach jumps into my throat, though, when my eyes land on the new arrival.

My ex-crush has just walked in and is pretty openly looking me up and down. I don't have enough sense to put my arms down for what feels like a full minute, as Castiel tilts his head slightly, and appreciates my exposed stomach and hips. My instinct is to cover up, but there is a coy smile on his lips as he walks forward, and it reminds me that I'm not supposed to care about what he thinks.

So instead of putting down my arms and allowing my shirt to cover my stomach again, I continue to wipe out the last cabinet.

"Cassie!" Gabe greets, "Our usual exchange? Whiskey for whit?"

"That'll do fine Gabriel. Thank you." Castiel answers back smoothly, his eyes still on my body.

"Careful Dean-o, you might find some dollar bills in your pants if you keep that up much longer." Gabe murmurs to me as he makes Castiel's drink, his back turned away from the bar.

The look on Castiel's face says he heard Gabe's comment though, so I'm careful to show how unaffected I am by his attention.

"Hmm?" I say, pretty confidently pulling off confusion, in my own humble opinion.

I lower my arms and move around Gabe, putting the bottles back into their appropriate cabinet.

Castiel's voice pulls at me but I force myself not to look at him. "Got yourself a new employee Gabriel?"

"Dean's just helping the height challenged." Gabe answers back, pushing Castiel's drink towards him. "Let me buy you dinner Dean, to thank you."

"I won't say no to that." I reply easily, placing the last of the bottles up in the cabinet and wiping my brow. My hands are on my hips and Gabe is pretty openly staring between me and Castiel but I still refuse to look in the other man's direction. Instead, I move back around the other side of the bar and take the seat my jacket and button down are on. It's only two away from Castiel, but I figure he chose that seat for a reason, and I'm not going to let him intimidate me out of mine. "How about another burger, maybe that one with pepper jack?"

"You got it. Club soda?"

"Yeah, thanks." I smile at Gabe, maybe a little too widely and pull my button down back on. There is a soft sigh from beside me, but still my resolve to not look at him wins out. I can feel my hands shaking though as I button my shirt back up and I pray that he doesn't notice.

But because whatever God I just prayed to must be out to dinner, Castiel does notice and makes sure to call me on it.

"Nervous about something Dean?"

This time, I purposely move my eyes to the snarky man beside me and find those lips curved into that smirk that makes me want to scream. Instead of answering though, I just shrug and take my seat. He chuckles softly before standing up and pulling off his green jacket, the one he was wearing at the AA meeting, to reveal a dark blue long sleeve shirt. I notice the hem just makes it to his belt, which is crazy low on his hips. I'm not sure I've seen a pair of jeans sit so low on a man's hips before, but the view is one I don't ever want to live without again. His hip bones jut out just enough to protrude into his t-shirt, the sharp curve of them drawing my attention and holding me captive.

And because my filter must be lost along with the rest of this guy's jeans, I open my mouth to say something I'm sure I'll regret.

"I don't think nervous is the word I would use to describe it."

Castiel looks genuinely shocked at my statement for a second before snickering at me and nodding. "Aren't we bold this evening."

He takes his seat again and I watch for a second as he brings his drink to his lips and sucks in the liquid. I can tell he is trying to draw me in, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction, so I turn away.

Gabe is looking at us again, his eyebrows raised and an amused smile playing at his lips. "Should I just go then? Leave you two to it?"

"You'll get no complaints from me." Castiel said back smoothly.

"That's alright Gabe, your company is actually appreciated." I say hotly, giving a pointed glare in Castiel's direction.

"Ouch!" Gabe replies back. "Careful Dean, Cassie here may just steal your ball at recess."

"Your cleverness never seizes to disappoint me Gabriel." Castiel murmurs through this glass.

His comment sends my eyes rolling, and landing on him. I want to find some way to unnerve him the way he still apparently does to me, so I start fishing.

"Charlie missed you at her birthday party."

"No she didn't." He replies back casually, taking another sip of his beer.

Gabriel hands me my club soda and I suck down a few large gulps of it. "How do you know? You weren't there."

"Because I know my sister, and my presence at her birthday party wasn't necessary."

It takes me a beat, but soon his words are catching up to me and my mouth is hanging open slightly. "Your sister? Charlie is your sister?"

"Of sorts." He answers, his eyes challenging me.

There are different flashes of my own emotions then and I don't know how to proceed. Hearing that Charlie and Castiel were related somehow, hits me in the gut, and I don't exactly know why. Maybe it's because my own brother is dead and gone, and it's all my fault. Maybe it's because being with Charlie gives me that feeling of what it would be like to be a big brother again and I'm envious that Castiel gets that title.

I decide to press the issue.

"Of sorts? What the hell does that mean?"

Castiel shrugs and takes down the last of his drink. He nearly slams it on the bar before turning back towards me. "It means exactly what I said, Charlie is _sort of_ my sister."

"How can someone be _sort of_ your sister?"

"Tell me about yours." Castiel says coolly. "And I'll tell you about mine."

My throat goes dry and I have to strain to keep my breathing even. "I don't have a sister."

"A brother then..." Castiel squints at me, and tilts his head slightly. He watches as my face undoubtedly changes at the mention of Sam, and then his voice goes softer, but still probing in strength.

"Oh, I see. A dead brother then."

What the actual fuck is happening right now? Is this guy telepathic?

I don't want to give him any sort of clue that he is right, but I'm sure my expression is betraying me. I keep my voice as even as possible when I reply sharply, "Why don't we save the heart to heart's for another time Cas."

His jaw clicks slightly, and I can see that he is tensing it. It must annoy him that I'm not letting him get to me, and I let my satisfaction drown out the hurricane of guilt that threatens my exterior when thoughts of Sam pull at my mind.

"Suit yourself." He shrugs and watches as Gabe pours him another round. I finish mine off as well and ask Gabe for another.

There is an uncomfortable silence between us as Gabe goes to the kitchen to grab my dinner and I find myself wanting to break it, but not knowing how.

Finally I decide to throw him a bone, for some unknown reason, and ask him something that's been bugging me ever since we met.

"How did you know I was a widower?"

Castiel turns his head to face mine again, a contemplative look on his face. I can tell he is trying to decide whether to tell me or not, and I fear that maybe my unwillingness to play his game earlier may cause him to keep his mouth shut.

So it surprises me when he reaches down the bar and pulls my left hand into his.

He leans over enough to point to my ring finger with his other hand. His skin is as warm as I remember it to be, and there is just as much electricity flowing through us as there was when we shook hands for the first time. My heart is noticeably beating harder at the contact, and I pray super-hearing isn't one of his apparent supernatural abilities.

"You have a wedding ring tan, but you didn't seem angry, just depressed." He says it simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and he when he finishes he waits much longer than necessary to let go of my hand. To be fair, I don't pull myself away either.

He is close enough to smell the whiskey and smoke on his breath, which helps calm my hormones just enough to keep my dick flaccid. There is something else though too, something earthy and light that seems to belong to him alone. It is drawing me in, and I can see myself beginning to lean closer to this man who can tell so much about me with just one look.

When Gabe returns with my burger a second later, Cas gives me a little smile that tells me he knows how much I enjoy his hand being in mine, and I curse myself before pulling it out of his grasp.

Castiel slowly rights himself and leans back in to his seat.

"I leave you alone for two seconds and this is what I find." Gabe shakes his finger at Castiel. "Be good Cassie, this one is too good for you."

I give Gabe a big smile that is supposed to say _"You're damn right"_ but I'm pretty sure looks more like, _"Thank you so much for saving me because if you hadn't of come back right then, I may have kissed that smirk right off of him."_

I think I know the answer, but my next question comes out of my mouth before I can stop it. "Have you ever been married Cas?"

"Do I look like the white picket fence type?" He answers back, eyes on the television above the bar, instead of me.

"That's not what I asked." I say back without hesitation. I start on my burger, and hum around it because it's unbelievably delicious and I smile appreciatively to Gabe.

Castiel turns back to regard me, his eyes squinting as he sizes me up. Eventually, he just shrugs. "I've never had the occasion."

"He means no one in their right mind would chose him for longer than a weekend in Vegas." Gabe interjects, and a piece of me has to hold back the scowl I want to give the bartender for that comment.

"I see." I say instead. "Well, maybe you just haven't found the right person."

Cas gives me another one of his infuriating smiles and my entire body comes alive.

"Are you proposing to me Dean?"

It's another thirty minutes of pointed silence and occasional banter before I decide it would behoove me to get my ass in my car and head home. It has become pretty obvious to myself, and anyone with in a thirty mile radius, that my crush is not so much in the past but in the _fuck me right here and now_ , and I need to get the hell out of here.

"Thanks Gabe, that'll do it for me." I push my credit card towards him and he finishes drying the glass he is working on.

"Sure thing, Dean-O." Gabe takes my card and turns away to run it at the register.

"How about a ride home?"

The question comes from beside me, and it feels like my entire world has gone off kilter when I turn to its source. I swallow hard, pushing back the butterflies trying to make their escape through my mouth.

I should say no, I know this.

But then again, there is no power on this earth that can stop my lips from parting to agree. I make sure to shrug a bit, and keep my face impassive, so that he doesn't see the thrill run through me at his predatory smile.

Gabe turns back to me and hands me my receipt. Castiel is already pulling on his jacket and heading towards the exit, a twenty dollar bill sitting under his empty glass.

As I sign the receipt, Gabe leans down to speak to me quietly. "You know what you're doing there?" Gabe's eyes are on Cas, and I instinctively turn to watch him walk out the door too, his impeccable ass demanding to be noticed.

I gulp down whatever I was about to say, and the truth comes sputtering out instead.

"Not even close."


	11. Bloodstream

Chapter Text

Cas is leaning against the passenger door of my car outside of the bar, like he has no doubt in his mind that my baby, does in fact, belong to me.

I am about to ask how he knows she's mine, before shaking away the question, knowing I probably wouldn't like the answer, or maybe even not receive one at all.

I walk over to the driver's side and look over the top of my car to point at him harshly. "No smoking in my baby."

He rolls his eyes but grins slightly. "Wouldn't dream of it."

When I slide in and unlock the passenger door, Cas takes his time getting inside fully. He just sits on the edge of his seat for a moment, one leg hanging out of the car while the other tucks under the glove compartment. His hands smooth over the leather of the seat and then up to the dashboard. "Figures you'd have car like this."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, putting the key in the ignition and not waiting for Cas to pull himself entirely into the car before I put her in reverse.

Cas grunts next to me as he moves fully inside the car and closes the passenger side door. I drape my hand across the back of the cabin seat, like I always do when I'm going in reverse, but this time there is Castiel's neck at my figure tips and I jerk my hand away quickly as soon as they make contact.

I curse myself for being so stupid, because Cas is snickering beside me and I force a scowl to my face to replace the horror that wants to shine through.

"Classic car for a red-blooded, man's man with _'daddy issues.'_ " He uses air quotes around my apparent psychological misfortune, and once again I am left stunned into silence at how easily he can read me.

Except for the _'man's man'_ thing. Not sure what the hell that means, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't describe me, not the real me anyway.

"You think you've got me all figured out." I say with an incredulous tone I hope carries more malice than I actually put behind it.

"Just about." Cas answers back smoothly, his eyes out the window and on the moon. It is full and bright in the sky, making the night look far more innocent than I know it to be. "There is one thing though, that I am still waiting for."

"And what is that exactly?"

"Your all-American boy, gay freak out." He says with a mischievous smile.

"My what?"

"I keep waiting to hear something about how you don't like men, which I know to be categorically inaccurate, but you never do."

The statement surprises me, since I haven't felt insecure in my sexuality in over a decade, but I don't want to let Cas off the hook that easily. I am positively thrilled that there is something he has gotten wrong about me, and I want to milk it as long as I can.

"And why are you waiting for this?"

"I thought it was fairly obvious Dean, my intentions, that is." He says this with a raise of one of his eyebrows and I have to remind myself to keep my eyes on the road. Having Cas in my car, right next to me, sitting in my baby and filling her with his scent, it's kind of fucking with my head at the moment and I'm worried basic driving skills may leave me.

"Uh, yeah. You aren't exactly subtle man."

"I never intended to be." I can feel his eyes on me, but I keep staring ahead. "But I am anticipating some sort of denial on your part. You carry the weight of your father's disapproval, perhaps your mother's too although I haven't come to a conclusion on that. That fact, combined with your heterosexual marriage, and a dead brother I now believe to have something to do with why you choose not to drink...I am expecting a classic, closeted argument any day now."

I try to brush off his all to accurate words about my family, and focus on how little he actually knows about me. I smile to myself as I stare out into the night.

"You know," My tone is playful, and my expression is probably pretty damn smug. "You're a lot more affective at that mysterious, asshole thing you got going, when you keep your mouth shut."

Castiel lets out a bark of a laugh beside me, and I see a smile on his face that I haven't seen before. It looks more genuine, like he is actually solely amused by my comment, rather than trying to put on some sort of show.

"Noted." He says through another chuckle, his hand going up to cover his mouth as if it betrayed him somehow.

"Well, if that's what you're waiting for Cas, you'll be waiting a helluva long time. I know who I am and I've got zero questions about my sexuality." I say it confidently, fully aware of how deep my voice goes. "But that doesn't mean I'm ready to do something about whatever it is we got going on here."

Castiel turns to me again, his shoulders actually turning with his head as he does. I take a glance in his direction and find him looking at me with an almost astonished expression. I find a shit load of pleasure in causing that particular expression, and it makes my mind wander as to what other faces I could get out of him.

"You going to give me some direction here or am I just supposed to guess?" I say, once my eyes are once again firmly on the road.

"Take your next left." Castiel says back, his expression returned to its normal state. "If I am to assume your home is the one you were sitting outside of the other night, we live six houses apart."

My stomach does that flipping thing again, and I blink furiously as I process that information. My thoughts have already started to roam to late night grope sessions in the sand, and impromptu stop-ins that lead to all things naked Castiel. I shake away the thoughts almost as quickly as they enter, my wife's face pulling me back to reality.

"Let me ask you something Dean." Cas says slowly, his gaze hot.

"You say it as if I have a choice."

"Usually, the choice to answer has been left up to you. But, seeing as how you have given me a ride home, I'll let you have the choice to hear the question this time as well."

I think about that for a second before letting out a loud sigh. The truth is, my curiosity at what Cas wants to know about me far outweighs my anxiety at listening to another analyzing question about myself.

"What the hell Cas, go for it."

I think I see a slight grin on his lips but it disappears quickly as he opens his mouth to speak. "How long are you going to torture yourself?"

I don't know what I regret more, letting him ask the question, or not knowing what it is he is referring to exactly.

"Leave it to you to make things weird Cas."

"Not saying something just because it might make someone uncomfortable is a stupid way to live. And I don't know if you've noticed Dean," Cas leans over the cabin seat and he is suddenly inches from my face as he whispers into my ear. "I'm not exactly stupid."

I can feel his breath hot on my skin and my knuckles blanch over the steering wheel because, _holy fuck_ , I want him.

But I push that away and keep my eyes on the road, letting images of Lisa's disapproving glare cloud my vision. "And- uh- what exactly am I supposed to be torturing myself with?"

Castiel doesn't move back right away, but when he does I feel his absence like a cold bucket of water being poured over me. "From what I can tell, multiple things. Your family issues, including your brother's death. Your recently deceased wife, and your guilt over wanting to fuck me."

I shudder at his words, but steel myself because that's who I am when I'm with Castiel.

He challenges me, and my tongue finds words my mind hasn't come up with yet.

"So sure of yourself are you?"

"Yes." Cas says it without the smirk I have come to expect of his cocky comments, and I find it all the more intimidating.

He motions with his hand out the window before I can say anything in reply.

"Here."

He is pointing to a small house with white siding and blue shutters. I immediately notice a gutter hanging loose on the side of the house, and I find it irritates me more than it should.

Suddenly the time to say goodnight is here and I am completely terrified as to how that will play out. I know I'm not going to reach over and make a move, but I'm not confident in my ability to deny Cas if he were to come to me instead.

Castiel turns to me, something in his eyes that tells me he is probably debating the exact scenario I am beginning to plan for. Before he can move a muscle though, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

"So, Charlie says you work for PETA?"

Cas' head jumps back slightly at that, surprise coloring his features for a moment before narrowing his eyes at me. "Yes, that's accurate."

"She was a little unclear about what that meant. What is it that you do exactly, Cas?"

"I'm a staff writer." He says it strangely, as if it was the answer to a different question.

"Right." I nod, filling the word with a fair amount of disbelief.

I can see him giving me a half smile in the moonlight, and it forces me to smile back. Another moment passes, and I know I'm sweating but I can't seem to do anything about it. Cas' hand is on the door handle then, and I let out a sigh of relief because it seems he has made the decision to keep his distance tonight.

But then my heart is hammering in my chest because Cas is leaning back towards me, his face once again inches from my own. His lips are just barely grazing the tip of my ear lobe and my skin begins to dance under him. When he speaks, his voice is in low whisper that makes my breath quicken.

"Don't ask questions you are unprepared to hear the answers to."

I squeezed the steering wheel to keep myself form grabbing his face and jamming mine on to it. When he pulls away, I know I can see one of his satisfied smirks out of the corner of my eye, and I want to do something to wipe it away, but I'm afraid to move at all.

So I let my mouth do the deed instead.

"Don't assume the answer would interest me."

I boldly turn my head to see the affect my words have on him, and his expression doesn't disappoint. In fact, he looks so damn adorable when he is put in his place it makes the moment that much harder to withstand.

My mouth goes dry for the thousandth time that night and my tongue flicks out to coat my lips in saliva. He follows the motion with his eyes, and they go noticeably darker as his eyebrow lifts again, as if to challenge me.

I don't move though, and simply hold his gaze.

When he finally turns back towards the door, it takes every ounce of strength I possess not to let out the sigh of relief my body wants to expel.

The car door is open, and Castiel is stepping outside and I'm nearly there, I'm _so close_ to getting out of this night without feeling like a complete asshole.

Then Cas bends down to stick is head back inside the car.

"Just so you are prepared, the next time a moment like that passes between us, I will not stop myself." He stares at me for another long moment, an indiscernible look on his face before letting standing back up and slamming the car door shut.

The next day is a just a series of motions being performed by my hands.

Cars are brought into the bay, I fix them, and they are taken out again. I haven't even eaten my lunch by the time Rufus is shutting down for the day.

My head is swimming in rotating images of Lisa and Cas, and it is driving me insane. The only way I know how to fight it, is to be busy, to keep moving.

By the time I make it home, I am starving, but decide there is no way I'm having dinner at the bar tonight, and quickly throw together something from my freezer. I don't even have the guts to eat my dinner out on the back porch like I usually do, for fear of seeing Cas on the beach.

It's ridiculous really, this hold he seems to have over me even though I am pretty sure I am not ready to go there with him, or anyone for that matter. It's just this powerful pull, that when I'm around him, seems to draw me in with no regard to reason.

I do like it though, that feeling when we are together. I like how powerful I seem to be, how much more dominant a person I become. I like the feeling I get when I challenge him, when I force him off his high horse. It's like a high I don't want to get down from.

After dinner, I decide to look up some of the writing Dorothy had mentioned at Charlie's party. As my laptop starts up, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I see that Charlie has texted me.

 ** _Queen of Moondor: No coffee this morning?  
Queen of Moondor: I had the best tip jars this morning too! _**

I feel bad that I didn't go in for coffee, and it was nearly impossible not to do so since that coffee has me ready to commit various crimes in order to ensure its continued existence. But trying to keep Castiel out of my head would be pretty difficult if I hang out with his sister right now.

 ** _Dean: I know, I'm sorry. Got a late start and didn't have time to stop in.  
Dean: What were they?_**

 ** _Queen of Moondor: Mario vs. Zelda_**

 ** _Dean: Crap.  
Dean: I have no idea.  
Dean: Don't make me chose Charlie, don't do it._**

 ** _Queen of Moondor: Thems the rules Dean._**

 ** _Dean: Zelda.  
Dean: NO Mario.  
Dean: No wait, which Mario?!_**

 ** _Queen of Moondor: You're ridiculous._**

 ** _Dean: Don't I know it._**

 ** _Queen of Moondor: What are you up to?_**

I freeze before typing out an answer. It occurs to me that there is no reason to lie about what I plan to do with my evening, and it may in fact help me figure out this thing Cas and I have going to talk to Charlie about it.

 ** _Dean: Thought I'd look up some of Cas' PETA stuff_**

 ** _Queen of Moondor: Oh reeeeeeeeeallly  
Queen of Moondor: Interesting._**

 ** _Dean: Hush._**

 ** _Queen of Moondor: You got it bad for Cas, huh?_**

 ** _Dean: Your brother, you mean?_**

 ** _Queen of Moondor: He told you?  
Queen of Moondor: Surprising._**

 ** _Dean: Why?_**

 ** _Queen of Moondor: Cas is pretty secretive...pretty much about everything_**

 ** _Dean: So I've noticed._**

 ** _Queen of Moondor: You going to make an honest man out of my brother Dean?_**

 ** _Dean: I'm just reading! Chill!_**

 ** _Queen of Moondor: We'll see.  
Queen of Moondor: Will I see you tomorrow?_**

I hesitate before answering again, but finally commit to the fact that there wasn't any version of my future that didn't involve Charlie.

 ** _Dean: Yep._**

 ** _Queen of Moondor: Awesome.  
Queen of Moondor: Happy stalking._**

 ** _Dean: Be quiet._**

Tuesday is my day off, and I spend the first few hours of the morning sleeping in and enjoying a few extra hours of sleep.

I spent Monday night reading just about every article Cas had written for PETA. They ranged from interviews to exposes on various industries and manufacturing procedures that he disagreed with. I found myself getting lost in his heated words, the passion for his cause apparent in every syllable of his prose.

There was one article about leather and it made me cringe to think that Castiel was thinking about the torture of animals when he got inside my car the other night. It strikes me as strange that he didn't call me out on that, and I'm grateful that he didn't. I have never given much thought to animal rights, besides my pretty basic _don't be dick_ to them, philosophy.

I decide to finally take the plunge and go for that run I've been putting off before I make myself some brunch, and thoughts of Castiel and his powerful words stay fresh in my brain as I run along the beach. I ask myself questions I have never asked myself before, and wonder if Lisa would be impressed with my apparent interest in Castiel's cause.

She had always wanted me to care about something, to give myself over to a cause bigger than myself, but I had never found anything worth my time. I'm not saying I am suddenly going to turn into an animal rights activist because the guy I am jonesing after is, but his passion is rather intoxicating.

Every point he makes about animal testing and other ways animals are used to better human life with complete disregard for the lives of the animals, it makes me kind of angry.

Angry?

Yes, I feel angry about this. I'm not sure what that means exactly, but I figure it's a start.

By the time I get back to my place, I have decided to do some more research, this time reading from sources other than Cas to be sure my opinion isn't being swayed.

I don't make it much farther than the steps of my screened in porch though, because my body is suddenly made of every kind of stone on earth, and it's starting to sink into the ground.

Cas is waiting for me, sitting in one of my chairs with his feet propped up on the porch table. There is a book in his hand but he isn't looking at it any more, his eyes have found mine instead, and I realize belatedly that I have been standing in the same spot for a very long time.

"Are you going to come inside? Or am I going to have to retrieve you myself?"


	12. Only

Once I feel confident that my eyes are properly back in their sockets, I wash my face of my shock and glare through the door of my screened-in porch.

Cas is looking at me expectantly, but I know he wants me to say something about what he is doing here, so instead I just keep silent and open the door. I take a few steps inside and cross my arms.

I think if my body language could speak for itself, it would be saying _I may want you mother fucker, but you don't just show up to my house like this, and also maybe keep your distance because if you come over here I'm may try to blow you._

Cas' words from the other night ring in my ears, and I don't want to give him a reason to make a move, not yet at least. There is a piece of me that wants to put some arbitrary date on when I'll be open for business, that way I can just concentrate on that and avoid Castiel until then.

But a much greater part of me thinks that I should just go with how I feel, and when I feel it. If i don't feel guilty about sinking to my knees for this guy, then I should do it. If I see my wife when I try to imagine fucking Cas, then I'll take that as a sign that I'm not ready. I figure this will keep me out of the doghouse if there really is an afterlife and Lisa is watching me.

Resolved not to say a word until Cas does, my body settles into its position. My face, hopefully as impassive as I mean it to be.

A full minute must pass between us before Cas is snickering quietly to himself. "I guess I can add stubborn to the growing list of your personality traits."

I am so relieved that the Cas breaks the silence first, I don't even try to keep it going.

"You have a list?"

"Perhaps."

"Can I see it?"

Cas narrows his eyes at me for a moment, the crinkles around them growing deeper as he squints slightly. "It is not tangible."

I laugh because his expression calls for it, and take another few steps forward. I decide to sit at the table across from Cas. I'm hoping its the perfect way to keep some distance between us, but relax my body a little as well.

"Right." I lick my lips as I roll my eyes slightly. "Isn't it a little early for trick-or-treating Cas?"

Castiel looks confused for a second, but then understanding coats his features and he is smiling at me. "If I dressed up for you, would you give me a treat?"

"Cute." I say dryly.

Cas grunts out a laugh and keeps a smirk on his face. "Any plans for this year's celebration of childhood diabetes?"

"Not really. Do you know if there are a lot of kids that come around here? I don't know if I need to get candy or not."

Castiel just looks at me like I'm missing a very important aspect of our conversation, and it takes me much too long to realize what it is.

"Oh right, you probably don't do the whole, mainstream holiday thing huh?"

There is a slight nod of his head, _I think_ , and that's all I get on that.

We sit there for another long minute before I remember how sweaty and gross I am, despite the cold weather, and begin to panic that Cas can smell me from across the table.

"I should -uh- clean up." I say slowly, getting up from the table in a way that I hope doesn't shift the air too much. I feel slightly stupid, but not enough to do it any differently.

"You smell fine." He says it casually, like he wasn't using his annoying superpowers to dissect my thoughts.

I just sigh though, and shrug. "Nonetheless, I feel gross and want a shower."

"Is this your polite way of asking me to leave?"

"No." I say plainly. "This is my way of saying I'm going to go take a shower now. You can stay out here all you like Cas, no skin off my back." I turn to head towards the patio door, but stop abruptly when I hear Cas shift at the table. I look over my shoulder to find him staring pretty openly at my backside. "I will be locking my bathroom door though, so don't get any ideas."

He puts on a mock innocent face that suits him far too much, and I roll my eyes once more before heading inside.

I make my way to the bathroom and lock the door once I am safely inside of it. Even though I know he can't see me, I strip much more self-consciously than I usually do.

Once I'm in the shower, I find it nearly impossible to keep my mind off of the man currently occupying my back porch. I spend the first step of my shower routine thinking about why he showed up, before realizing he probably didn't have one.  
If Cas wanted to see me, I'm sure that was reason enough for him. Also, I'm sure he got a thrill out of seeing my eyes bug out of my skull when I saw him sitting there.

I cringe at that, wishing desperately I could go back and look completely unaffected by his presence. I make a note that I now live in a world where Cas can just show up at any time, and promise myself to do better next time.

By the time I'm soaping up, I realize I've been thinking about the way Cas looked sitting on my porch for much longer than I should be. He was dressed in his usual ripped and snuggly fit jeans, and wore a black zip-up hoodie over what looked like a plain white t-shirt.

My mind immediately goes to the sound the zipper would make as it came down in my hands. I wonder how tightly the shirt fit across his chest, and how soft the material would be. I imagine it being well-worn, that broken in kind of soft you only get after having something for twenty years. I picture my hands going out and smoothing out any wrinkles in the shirt across his chest, and find my fingers pushing the hoddie off his shoulders as they explore Cas' body.

Oh shit.

I look down to see that my dick has sprung to life, which is my usual cue to turn the water to cold and get the hell out as quickly as possible, but I'm curious if I could be ready for this next step.

I haven't jerked off since before my wife died, not seeing any need or want for it. The last few weeks however, there has been a whole lot of need and want, but every time I think about doing it while thinking about Cas, guilt stops me. But right now, I'm not seeing Lisa behind my eyes, giving me a disapproving glare. All I see is Cas and that stupid smirk and his perfectly pink lips that I bet taste better than fresh lemonade on a summer day.

Fuck it.

My hand wraps around my dick and the pressure is already better than I imagined it would be. I let my mind drift back to Cas and those damn jeans and how they fit around his waist. I imagine my hands around them, my thumbs making circles into his hip bones. My hand begins to stroke, as Cas' hands work their way up my arms to my biceps, squeezing them slightly as he draws me in.

Picturing kissing Cas has my hand moving faster and faster, each imaginary swipe of his tongue taking me closer to the edge.

I'm fully aware of how embarrassed I should be about how quickly I'm about to come, but I don't dwell on it. Instead, I jump to the good stuff and imagine Cas dropping to his knees and wrapping those lips around me.

The sight, even though it's entirely in my head, pushes me so hard and so fast towards my orgasm, I barely notice that my other hand has reached around and I'm pushing a finger inside of myself. The moment my muscles clench hot and hard around my finger, I'm coming over my hand, barely stifling the moan that pushes at my lips.

I stroke myself through my orgasm until I can barely stand up straight and I have to lean against the shower wall. There is a momentary freak out over whether Cas had come inside and heard me, but I let that go.

So what if he did?

We both know how much I want him, no point in trying to deny that anymore. And the satisfaction he'd get from knowing I was jerking off at thoughts of him, would be drowned by my unwillingness to go through with the fantasy for real.

This was a good test, and since Lisa hasn't shown up to kick my ass mentally, I'd say jacking off to Cas is now safe territory. I'm not willing to bet that actually messing around with him would be as successful though, and the last thing I want is to start something and then have a major freak out and embarrass the shit out of myself.

I finish cleaning myself up and I'm out of the shower a few minutes later. Once the water is off, I listen for sounds that would tell me if Cas is inside or not, but I hear nothing.

I wrap the towel around myself and head out of the bathroom to my bedroom where I dress quickly in jeans and an old AC/DC t-shirt. It is one of the last things my mom got for me before I left, and fits just a little too tightly now, but it's soft and comfortable and I need something familiar at the moment.

When I make my way to the back porch, I don't try to hide my disappointment when I find it deserted.

The rest of the week is filled with plenty of stroke sessions with Cas as my main star.

I drop in to the coffee shop daily to see Charlie and get my coffee, and stop by the bar once to have dinner and see Gabe. Cas didn't show that night, and neither of us brought him up. I could tell Gabe wanted to, the few times the bar door opened and he caught me looking at it expectantly, but he surprised me by never calling me out on it.

Once Halloween rolls around on Saturday, I find myself itching to see Cas.

Charlie let it drop that he was out of town again earlier in the week, but also mentioned she expected to see him after the meeting on Sunday. I took it as a subtle reminder that a meeting might serve me well, and promised her I would see her there this weekend.

I had a half shift at the shop this morning, but I'm home by five and I need to do something with myself before I end up at Loki's or _worse_ , start going through the boxes that still lined the walls of my living room. I consider going for another run, but thoughts of seeing Cas monopolize my thoughts and I find myself formulating a plan to do so.

A quick stop at the hardware store and thirty minutes later I am up on a ladder outside of Cas' house.

I am holding up his gutter with one hand and pounding a nail into the siding with another, as I wait somewhat impatiently for Cas to make an appearance. It doesn't take more than a few bangs of my hammer, thankfully, before Cas is opening his front door with a curious but irritatingly calm look on his face.

I've got a nail between my teeth, but I smile down at him anyway when he looks up at me. I pull the nail from my teeth and place it in the right spot before driving it into the siding to secure the gutter.

Castiel just watches me work, and leans against his doorway, his arms crossed against his chest. I can feel him staring at me, and it makes my skin hot as I have a momentary freak out that maybe this was a very bad idea and that maybe I should just get off this ladder and _run the fuck home._

Once I'm finished, I am careful to step down as confidently as I can manage, and do my best to keep my face completely unaffected by his close proximity. I swallow back the lean in my body wants to preform once I am standing in front of him, and break the silence with the reason for my presence.

"I figured if we were just going to start showing up at each other's places, I could at least take care of something that's been bugging the shit out of me ever since I saw it."

Cas looks up at the gutter and raises his eyebrows. "Quite the elaborate excuse."

And because he's not wrong, I just shrug.

"Were you hoping for some candy Dean?" Cas asks, his lips curving into a sly smile.

"No." I answer back easily. "Do you actually have any?"

"Of a sort." His eyebrow cocks up on one side and it sends a jolt of something wicked to my groin.

I let out an exasperated side at his all too obvious innuendo, but I know I'm smiling. We stand there, on the precipice of something I am pretty confident is a really bad idea, for what feels like an eternity, before Cas moves inside the house without a word.

He leaves the front door open, which I reluctantly take as my cue to follow him inside.

Castiel's house is pretty much how I imagined it would be.

Very minimalistic, but with random things of interest that are placed way too nonchalantly to actually be an accident.

I walk into what must be the living room, the kitchen and dining room just past it and to the right.

There is a couch that has seen better days, a recliner that looks like it's been slept in more than it was made to, and a television hanging on the wall. The coffee table is glass and covered in news clippings and magazine articles. The walls are bare except for the television and one large piece of art that is just paint splattered in random areas. I'm sure it's some representation of angst or sexuality, but it doesn't hold my interest long enough to give it more thought.

I can hear Cas doing something in the kitchen, so I move through the living room to find him pulling a mug from the cabinet. He tilts it towards me as a question, and I nod. He pours me a cup of coffee, then tops off his half full one.

"Kind of late for coffee." I murmur around my first sip.

"You're drinking it, yes?"

"Yeah." I say with squint of my brow.

"Then it's not too late." He shrugs and sips from his own cup.

There is a magazine on the counter that I assume Cas was looking through when he heard me banging on his house, and after a moment of pointed staring, he begins to thumb through it again.

I take that as my opportunity to take a better look around, and turn towards the back door off of the dining room. I call it a dining room, but really it is just a small two-seater table covered in large rolled up pieces of paper that look like blueprints. I can see the water from the sliding glass door, there is no dune to block the view. I wonder about how often his place floods for a moment before my attention is drawn to the noises being made behind me.

Castiel has moved around the counter and is dialing a number on his cellphone. I want to find it strange that Cas is just continuing whatever he was doing before I got there, but at the same time it suits me fine. I like that Cas is just Cas, he doesn't put up anything false.

"Delivery please." Castiel says plainly.

What is he ordering?

"Yes. That will be fine. Thank you."

He hangs up.

"You got some standing order for dinner somewhere Cas?"

Castiel turns around to look at me with a hint of a smile on his lips.

I guess he has figured out that saying nothing unnerves me more than when he speaks, which he would definitely right about.

Of course.

I watch as Cas moves out of the kitchen and picks up the television remote on his way to sit in the recliner. He sips his coffee as he sits and turns on the TV, and I think it looks kind of odd, this oddly secretive man doing something as mundane as watching TV.

I follow him into the living room and sit on the couch. I don't ask him what he plans to watch, since I don't anticipate an answer.

I am pleasantly surprised to see that he is tuning in to the _Halloween_ marathon that plays every year. The sun is just beginning to set, and there is a soft glow in the living room that sets the mood pretty perfectly for a horror movie.

I resign myself to spending my night in front of the TV with Cas. This gives me so many different types of emotions, I don't even know how to process them, but I know one thing for sure.

There is a horror movie playing on the television, but the only thing I'm afraid of tonight is the decisions I have yet to make.


	13. Do I Wanna Know?

We are both settling into our respective movie watching areas and silence falls easily, but something makes me want to cut it.

"Tradition of yours Cas?"

I don't expect an answer, so when he turns to me and nods I don't have time to hide my surprise.

"How many times do you have to do something for it to become a tradition?" He turns back towards the television where Jamie Lee Curtis has just appeared.

"I don't know, a few?"

"Then yes. Although, generally, I make it a point not to be sober."

"Don't stop on my account." I say, slightly taken back that Cas has chosen not to drink because I am there.

"I'm not." There is a beat and then he is turning back to me. "Well, that wouldn't be entirely accurate. But I'm actually interested in seeing if the films holds up when my mind isn't clouded with alcohol."

"The first one is amazing no matter what state you're in. If I remember correctly the second one is pretty good too. The one with the little girl and the clown thing is strange...and I can't remember the fourth one. But I don't care what people say about H2O, that shit was awesome."

"Interesting." Cas has another smile that doesn't look like there is anything but amusement behind it, and I find myself shifting uncomfortably at the sight.

Its odd, this different version of Cas that is slowly making itself known. I wouldn't go so far as to call it _softer_ , but there is something far less abrasive about him at the moment.

As the movie continues, and nothing else is said between us, I settle into couch more fully. I'm grateful Cas chose not to sit next to me, since being that close to him may actually make my head spin around in circles. I let myself get absorbed in the movie, occasionally taking glances at Castiel to see his reactions. It's hard to tell if he is enjoying it or not, his face so difficult to read, especially in the growing darkness.

The shadows of the setting sun cast a kind of soft light that catches the stubble on Cas' cheeks, and it captivates me into a long winded stare.

There is a knock at the door though, and it abruptly pulls me from a fantasy my mind was formulating about bending over the recliner and kissing Cas stupid.

Castiel gets up and opens the door. I can't see who is at the door, but I just barely make out the bill of a baseball cap around Cas' head. Cas is pulling out his wallet and handing whoever it is some money and I'm wondering if I'm about to be fed food or drugs.

Cas backs up and closing the door and when he turns around, a wide grin finds my face, because Cas is holding _pizza_ and my stomach growls in appreciation.

He brings the pizza over to the coffee table and takes a seat next to me so that it is placed in front of both of us. He doesn't bother to move all the crap on the table, opting to just drop the box on top of the mess of papers.

"This a tradition too Cas?"

Castiel opens the pizza box and I see an assortment of vegetables staring back at me.

Figures.

"Perhaps."

"That doesn't really make any sense man, either it is or it isn't." I reach for a piece after Cas has collected one of his own and take a bite. There is a surprising tang to it and upon further inspection I realize there are banana peppers on the pizza. It's pretty freaking awesome.

"I didn't intend for you to understand my meaning." He finally says, as soon as his mouth is clear of food.

"Then why say anything at all?" I ask the question despite knowing full well why he says the shit he does.

I am expecting either silence or a pointed look, but Cas shrugs and speaks. "Sometimes it's because my mouth opens before I can tell it not to, and other times it's just to fuck with you."

"You don't get points for honesty if you're being a dick Cas."

There is a smile on his lips as he bites into his pizza again, and I force myself to look away from the way his eyes brighten at my response.

By the time we have had our fill and are settled back into the couch, Jamie Lee Curtis is stabbing Michael Myers in the eye with a coat hanger, and Cas has found himself pressed up against my side. There is barely room for a finger between our thighs, and I would be lying if I said I didn't noticed the extreme heat radiating off of him.

I feel like I can feel his pulse between the fabric of our jeans, and its killing me not to know what he is thinking. Especially because he always seems to be able to figure out my own inner monologue so easily. I bet he is having a laugh right now, knowing how much I am freaking out at our closeness.

I decide to try and focus on the movie, which is a good idea because Michael Myers is now being shot and it brings up something to cut the tension.

"Do you think he is super human? Or just gets lucky?"

Cas turns his head to look at me for a second, but I can't return his gaze because I'm afraid it will turn into a lifelong staring contest that ends with Cas bent over this couch and screaming my name. This thought makes my dick twitch, and _shit_ I really need to stop thinking.

"I've asked myself that many times." Cas finally responds. "But I haven't come up with a sound conclusion."

"Yeah. I mean, if they are going for the super human thing, they could at least insert some other supernatural stuff in the verse, you know? So that maybe it makes a little more sense?"

"Perhaps that's the point. Things are far more frightening when you don't understand them."

His eyes are on me again, his head tilted just enough so that I can feel the hint of his breath against my cheek.

I could turn to face him, I could do that and get the next step out of the way.

The step where I let him kiss me and I pretend not to freak out. The step that pushes me a little farther toward oblivion.

I am already feeling like a cheater at the moment though, and if this goes any further I will probably start seeing my dead wife in the corner slapping a ruler against her hand.

I know it's ridiculous, and I know that Lisa would want me to be happy, and not mourn her forever, but it still feels wrong somehow and it's not like I can just move on simply because I'm beginning to want to.

Cas' eyes are still on me, his face still angled just enough to make it awkward that I am not returning his stare. I can see his chest rising and falling steadily out of the corner of my eye and I curse him and his ability to be so damn cool, all the fucking time.

Finally, after another moment passes and the earth hasn't shattered around us, my mind blanks and suddenly my eyes meet his. It's a simple move, just an adjustment of vertebrae in my neck that sets my world on fire, and my heart beating the shit out of my chest.

There are butterflies flying and anvils falling, and every possible kind of explosive device on the planet going off in my body, as Cas' eyes flick down to my lips.

It distracts me enough not to notice his hand moving from his lap and onto my thigh.

I don't dare look down as his fingers trace the inseam of my jeans, I don't want to give him the impression that his hand's placement is affecting me as completely as it is.

In reality though, my head is playing _CAS IS TOUCHING MY THIGH_ on repeat and I'm fairly positive he has noticed how quickly my breath begins to come.

I can hear him move before I see it, the couch springs adjusting beneath him as Cas leans forward and brings his face closer to my mine. He angles his body so that his other hand comes up and rests against my neck, affectively pushing me back further into the couch.

His body is hovering over mine, and I want so desperately to reach out and touch him. I can't make my hands move though because they are clenched in my lap. Touching Cas is something I want more than anything, but also kind of cinches the whole making a move thing, and I really can't commit to that yet.

Cas' eyes are back up to mine, and scorching through every wall I'm trying desperately to cling to. I keep my hands to myself, even as Cas leans closer and his breath is on my lips. Our eyes are still locked, despite how close we are to one another, but when I feel his tongue graze my lips, my lids flutter shut.

He traces the seam, probably his way of asking permission, but I don't respond aside from my ragged breathing that I know I should try to get a handle on. I can feel him inch closer, and his mouth closes over mine just barely, before he his pulling back again, his tongue flicking out once more to taste my lower lip. I want to taste him too, I want to suck in the breath he is exhaling against me, but I am frozen solid.

His hand is very high up my thigh now and if he just takes it another inch further he is sure to feel the erection I know to be tenting my jeans.

I can't help but part my lips now, because my breath is coming so quickly it cannot be contained through my nose alone. My eyes are strained shut because I know if I relax enough to open my eyes I will find Lisa scowling at me or worse, taking Cas' place.

I'm waiting for Cas to make another move, but nothing more happens.

In fact, the hand on my neck releases me, and Cas is pulling himself back before I know what has happened.

It occurs to me that maybe my reaction was a bit too strong, as I can feel my body aching from the tension of holding back so much. When I gain enough courage to open my eyes, I find Cas looking at me with a look I dare deem _concern_.

"I-I'm sorry." I stutter because I'm a pathetic wuss, who can't seem to get over whatever it is that is holding me back from having what I want.

"It's fine." Cas said easily, and his expression confirms how fine he is with what just happened. "I was expecting worse to be honest."

"Expecting?" I adjust myself as subtly as I can manage, considering how close Cas is still sitting.

"It was just an experiment Dean." Cas pauses and then his lips curl in his standard cocky smirk. "Mostly."

"An experiment? What the fuck Cas?" I know I should be as annoyed as my words imply, but mostly I am just trying to get my dick to cooperate and _sit the fuck down_.

"I wanted to see how fucked up you really are." He shrugs as if his answer is completely satisfactory and I shake my head at him.

"You know how not cool that is, right?"

"The thought occurred to me." He looks back to the TV which has begun playing the next Halloween movie. "I disregarded it."

"Of course you did." I sigh and turn my head back towards the movie as well. "Well, what is your analysis Freud? I know you're dying to tell me."

I can see him trying to hide a smile out of the corner of my eyes, and I stifle one of my own at my effect on him.

"Very well." He turns back towards me, this time scooting himself back against the other side of the couch and laying himself back, so that he is resting against the arm. His legs stretch out, but he tucks his knees enough so they arent laying across my lap. "It's obvious by your increased heart rate and breathing, that I affected you in the way I intended to. But it's also obvious by your near hyperventilation and how tightly you kept your eyes shut, that you still carry your wife with you. You feel guilty for letting yourself feel aroused by me, but not so guilty to stop me."

"How do you know I wasn't going to stop you?" I ask, not at all phased by his analysis because I had figured that much out for myself already.

"I can't be sure how far you were willing to let me go..." He says slowly, looking down at the hand I have covering my lap. "But I would rather be conservative, than for you to have some sort of breakdown."

"So..." I start, but trail off.

I don't really know what to say to this. What is Cas trying to tell me?

I can tell by the set of his lips that he isn't going to elaborate and I roll my eyes at him.

"Does that mean you're cool with us just hanging out...or whatever?" I know how stupid that sounds, but there aren't better words to describe the situation so that's what comes out of my mouth.

Cas gives me a long, calculated look before nodding slightly.

"Your company isn't exactly torturous, and you do add quite a bit to the scenery."

"Gee, thank Cas." I roll my eyes again. "So does this make us friends then?"

"No." Cas doesn't hesitate to answer. "And I don't think that's what you want either Dean." There is an almost shy expression on his face then and I want to slap myself for thinking something so ridiculous but it's there and its fucking _adorable_ and I barely hear him when he continues.

"I don't really do labels, Dean. Friends or... otherwise."

"I see."

Is this his subtle way of saying he doesn't want to be my boyfriend or something? Because that certainly wasn't where I thought this was going. So far Cas has filled my sex fantasies, but that is about as far into the future as I've gotten.

"Is that why you said Charlie is _sort of_ your sister?"

"No, I said that because she is not of my blood."

"Step-sister?"

"No." He says it almost harshly, like he just wishes I would shut up. I'm surprised he doesn't just say as much.

"Well, you are just chalk full of information Cas."

"Are you only now coming to this realization?" He challenges me, his eyebrows raising slightly.

"No." I shake my head. "It's just getting a little old. I mean, I know you like to hold stuff back because it makes you all cool and mysterious or whatever, but how am I supposed to get to know you if you don't ever answer straight."

Cas eyes me suspiciously, his face falling slightly to the side as he considers my words. "I wasn't under the impression that that was your intention."

"What? Getting to know you?" I shrug and put my eyes on the screen again. "I'm not saying I'm committing to anything but, yeah, you know, like you said, your company isn't exactly _torturous_."

There is a lift in the corner of Cas' lips and I can't help but stare down at them. "And the scenery? How do you enjoy that Dean?"

I chuckle softly and my hand finds Cas' ankle that is curled up next to my thigh.

"I enjoy the view just fine Cas."


	14. Pioneer to the Falls

I spend Sunday with Charlie at the coffee shop, reading more of Cas' articles and bothering her as she makes coffee and polite chit-chat with the regulars.

"So, you two are what? Like friends now?" She asks, her body leaning over the side counter that faces the back set of couches.

"He was pretty clear that was definitely not what we are." I say with a strained grin.

"Dating then?" She has a hopeful expression and I hate to dash it away.

"Not really, no."

She groans from behind the counter but sees a customer approach and fixes her attitude quickly. I hear her greet the older woman and take her order with a smile on her lips.

I didn't give Charlie all the details of the previous night, just a basic rundown, which didn't seem to please her. She begged me for details, but the most she got out of me is that, _yes_ I do know the texture of Cas' tongue, although I can't describe it in detail yet.

She giggled for a full minute over that one, before I shut up for good and refused to answer any more questions.

I let myself get lost in Castiel's words about _speciesism_ , and the opinions of philosophers like Tom Regan. I find plenty of people who share Cas' view point and read quite a lot from people who disagree completely. No matter what side I read from though, there seems to be a running theme of how poorly so many animals are treated.

It doesn't seem fair, to let completely innocent beings with thoughts and emotions of their own, go through such horrible things. Even the ones who are treated "humanely" are still stuck in a cage, no matter how far the walls are away from each other.

"You really getting into it huh?" Charlie calls to me from behind the counter.

"Uh, yeah." I say back slowly. "I guess so. I mean, to be honest, I have never really given much thought to this stuff...but he makes a good point, and so do a lot of other people."

"Yeah, Cas is...passionate, that's for sure." She says it carefully, and I take notice that she is holding something back.

"You're big on animal rights too right?" I ask, a slight blush to my face because I'm bringing up a story she shared during AA, which is kind of uncool, but I take a chance that she won't mind. "With the whole thing about your foster brother and the cosmetic lab?"

There is a quick flash of caution on her face but it evens out quickly. "Yeah, I used to do a lot of stuff like that." She shrugs, "Now I'm pretty passive."

Charlie is staring at me pretty hard now, and I get the feeling I am supposed to be saying something but nothing comes until-

"Oh!" I say, hitting my forehead like the idiot I am. "Cas is the foster brother! The one you-"

"Took you long enough there." She interrupts, but smiles kindly. "Sorry I didn't just say so, but Cas is pretty private and if he didn't tell you-"

"I get it." I nod and wave her off. "I just feel stupid for not figuring it out sooner."

She laughs and heads back to the register to take another order and I'm left with thoughts of Charlie and Cas growing up in foster care together. Cas is probably right around my age, maybe a year or two younger, and Charlie is most likely in her late twenties. I guess the big brother image was pretty on point, although I can't really picture Cas pulling her pigtails or intimidating Charlie's first date.

A sweet smile curves my lips as I imagine a much younger version of Charlie, being awesome and proud on the playground. I can just make out the faint lines of an equally younger Cas, but the image is pushed away quickly when Charlie returns.

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask you, do you have Thanksgiving plans?"

"Oh, um..." I only hesitate because I completely forgot that Thanksgiving was in a few weeks and I need to make sure the boxes in my house are in the storage room before the renters come in. "No, actually."

"Great! I mean, not great that you don't have plans ,but great that you can come to our Friendsgiving."

"Friendsgiving?"

"Yeah, the girls and I have been doing it for the last couple years. We just get a bunch of our friends together and have a proper Thanksgiving dinner. Most of us don't have families of our own, or don't like our families enough to return home."

"Oh, cool." I shrug. "Sounds good to me." I shift in my seat a little too lean closer to the counter. "Actually, do you know of a decent place to stay around here? That weekend is the last group of renters at my beach house and I couldn't get out of it."

Charlie scrunches her face. "You mean like a hotel?"

"Yeah, or a motel. I'm not picky- as long as there are no roaches."

"You're an idiot Dean." She shakes her head and picks up the cloth on the counter to begin wiping it down.

"Uh- so does that mean you don't know of a place or...?"

"You're staying with me, stupid." She rolls her eyes and turns to the espresso machine to give it a proper wipe down as well.

"I am?" I ask more out of amusement than confusion, because of course Charlie would let me stay with her.

Once again, I am an idiot.

"Yes." She smiles over her shoulder. "Now don't you have some things to do other than stalk my brother? Like say...maybe go see my brother?"

"Subtle, Charlie. Real subtle."

She just shrugs and gives me a coy smile.

"Well, I actually do have some things to do around the house, to prepare it for renters."

"You mean, overnight guests?" There is a wiggle in her eyebrows and I roll my eyes.

"You have like, _zero_ cool."

"I'm the coolest and you know it." She flicks the wash cloth at me even though I am out of distance.

"Right." I pack up my laptop and make my way over to the counter to say goodbye.

"You coming back for the meeting tonight?" She says it casually, like my answer isn't that big of a deal, which I appreciate.

"Yeah, I'll be here."

Her face brightens noticeably. "Awesome."

"See ya Charlie." I say it over my shoulder and head for the exit. I don't turn around when Charlie yells after me.

"Say hello to Cas for me!"

Going through the boxes of stuff I shared with Lisa isn't nearly as difficult as I thought it would be. There were a few times I stopped to linger over a photo album or shed a few tears at a memory a particular knick-knack brought up, but overall it wasn't an awful experience.

I take out what I want to put around the house, a few pictures of us, the one of my parents, and some of me and Bobby and Ellen. I also pull out some books and put them on the bookshelves. I leave the rest of the stuff in boxes and open up the storage room with the key the realtor gave me.

It takes me a moment to realize what it is I'm seeing inside the room.

There is a single box inside, with my mother's name on it. It is pushed to the back and sitting under an old slab of carpet, so I can see why it was missed the last time I was here, packing stuff up after my parents died.

I bring the boxes I intend to leave in the storage room inside, and pull the one with my mother's name on it out. I don't know why I want to torture myself, but apparently I do, so I take a deep breath and open up the box.

Inside, there are a bunch of medals and trophies that I realize fairly quickly, didn't belong to my mother. I always wondered where they kept Sam's stuff, and here it is, just punching me in the face.

My breath hitches, and I can feel tears beginning to form, but I keep moving things around in the box, getting a better feel for what is inside. There are a few albums I am sure contain nothing but pictures of Sam and I am definitely not feeling suicidal tonight so I save those for another time.

Something at the bottom of the box catches my eye though, and my heart probably stops as I realize what it is.

I immediately recognize the ornately embossed swirls that cover the spine of the journal my mother kept when I was a kid, and it taunts me from the bottom of the box.

I don't know why I pick it up, and I understand even less why I open it to the year I chose to open it to.

I must want to challenge that suicidal theory, or perhaps my sobriety.

My mother's neat script jumps out at me immediately, and I let out a whimper that a lesser man may not admit to.

 _It's been nearly a year, and I still can't look at him._

 _I know he is my son, and that I should love him no matter his faults, but this...this is too difficult to look past. The choices he has made, the person he has chosen to be- that's what killed my little boy._

 _Not the fire, not the alcohol he was drunk on._

 _It was Dean._

I slam the journal shut and throw it violently into the box.

I don't want to read any more.

I don't want to know anymore.

I don't want to think.

I know what I want, and despite the fact that it's the last thing I need, I go in search for it anyway.

"Where is your whiskey?" I barge into Cas' house the moment he answers the door, pushing past him without a second thought.

"Cabinet next to the fridge." He answers easily, like I just asked him where I could find a box of tissues.

He does follow me into the kitchen though, and I can feel his eyes on me as I pull the bottle from the cabinet and uncork it. I stare down at the bottle for a full second before bringing it to my mouth.

Right before I tip it up, Castiel's voice cuts me off.

"Should I be stopping you?" He says it with a slight note of concern, but his expression is more confused than anything else.

"Probably, but if I wanted someone to stop me I would have gone to Gabe." I turn the bottle up, and let the liquid fall into my throat.

As soon as the sting hits me though, I am spitting it out, and cursing wildly.

"Right." Castiel says, moving towards me and pulling the bottle out of my hands. "Stopping you, then."

"Fuck!" I slam my hand against the fridge because it's the only thing my body is capable of at the moment, and I relish in the pain that shoots up my arm.

"Do you want to elaborate on that?" When I look back at Cas, the bottle of whiskey is nowhere in sight and I am both murderous and grateful for it.

"No." I say immediately, even though I can already feel my lips beginning to spill the secrets I have been desperate to keep.

"I read my mother's diary." The words are almost spit from my mouth, and my hands find the back of my neck. I pull on it, trying desperately to receive some sort of physical release for all the emotion pushing at my edges.

"Scandalous." Cas says it like a joke, but his eyes are hard on me.

I growl but keep going. "She said some shit in it about me...and Sam, and I just...I can't deal."  
"Sam." Castiel repeats, no emotion in his voice. "Your brother...Sam."

"Yes."

No point in holding anything back. Shit already hit the fan the moment I walked in here demanding alcohol.

"What did your mother say about Sam that has you...not dealing?"

"How she really felt about everything, how much she blamed me..." I murmur, delaying the inevitable for seconds longer.

Castiel just looks at me a moment, giving me one last moment of living with this secret before probing further. "Why would your mother blame you for Sam's death?"

I start yelling before I know what I'm even saying.

"Because I killed my brother Cas! I killed my brother and my mom wrote all about how much she hated me for it, not that I didn't already know that but reading it is kind of a shotgun to the head you know?"

"You murdered your brother?" He says it as a fact, with only a slight inflection at the end.

"No. Fuck, no Cas- there was a fire. I was drunk, as per usual, and I left him in there to burn when I got out. I forgot he was in there...mom and dad were out for the night. So, yeah I killed him. Murder...whatever, he is dead and it's my fault."

"I see." Cas just stares at me for a long moment before looking down at his shoes that I see are untied. In fact, now that I take a second to look at him without the haze of my mission to drink dulling everything around me, Cas is dressed rather strangely.

He is wearing all black, and his shoes are a pair of industrial black boots. He has a utility belt around his waist and there is a note of fear in his eyes when they look back to mine and see my questioning gaze.

He swallows hard, and bends down to tie his shoes, carefully avoiding my eyes again.

When he looks back up, his expression has lost the caution I saw before, and he takes a step forward. "Let me ask you something Dean."

My mind is reeling, jumping from bank robbing scenarios to being rolled up in an ugly Persian rug and thrown into the bay for having seen Cas like this. I don't know what to say, so I just nod my head a bit.

When he speaks, he tilts his head to the side in a way that I have come to find endearing, but his words make absolutely no sense.

"How important is lipstick to you?"


	15. Daisy

"Come again?"

"Lipstick." Cas repeats, his tone slightly on edge. "What does it mean to you Dean?"

I try to put the words together in many different ways and possible meanings but absolutely nothing is registering. I stare back at Cas with a look I'm sure looks a combination of confusion and emotional exhaustion, and eventually just let out a loud sigh.

There is no point in trying to understand Cas when he is being purposefully vague.

"Very little." I reply, a hand going up to rub down my face because, despite how grateful I am for this distraction, I am still extremely overwhelmed by my own shit and don't really want to deal with whatever this is.

There is little to no reaction to my answer.

"And how strong is your opposition to committing federal crimes?"

Shit.

"Uh..."

What the hell do I say to that? What in God's name is Cas up to?

"Cas-"

"Just answer the question Dean." Cas says impatiently. Now I want to throw the nearest object at him because he's got a lot of balls asking a question like that and then getting all huffy about me taking a second to think about it.

"Jesus Cas, is this a hypothetical thing or-"

"If that makes you feel better, then sure. _Hypothetically_ , under what circumstances would you be willing to break the law."

"That's a completely different question."

"Is it?" He tilts his head and I have to remind myself that I actually barely know this guy despite my growing attachment to him, and he could be capable of some serious shit, going by his personality alone.

"Yes, Cas, it is." I answer back defiantly.

"Hmm." He stares at me for a moment, eyes squinting in concentration and what I assume to be some sort of analysis. "I don't see the difference."

"Of course you don't." I shake my head and rub my face again, letting out another sigh that I hope makes him feel the slightest bit bad because his antics are just _not helping_.

I decide to just roll with it though, because I know in the long run, there is probably a very good reason Cas is asking me this. Especially considering his wardrobe for the evening.

"I guess, it would depend." I finally say. "I mean, if there is a good reason or if it was to help someone- you know?"

"What is your definition of _'someone'_?"

"Uh...a person? Or I guess maybe an animal too. I've been reading your-"

"Great." Cas interrupts me. "Would you like to accompany me on an errand this evening?"

"An errand?" I ask, doubt written all over my face.

"Yes." He says back confidently.

I take a pointed look at his attire and gesture towards it. "An errand."

"That's what I said." Cas looks like he is confused by my hesitation, but I know better.

"You're going to have to do a hell of a lot better than that if you want me going anywhere with you, Cas."

Cas eyes me for a second, and then his shoulders slump and he is sighing into his exaggerated eye roll. "I had hoped you would just agree, considering your heightened emotional state."

"You trying to manipulate me into breaking the law with you?"

"Not manipulate, exactly. I figured you needed a distraction, and I happen to unexpectedly need assistance tonight."

"With what exactly?" He opens his mouth to speak but I hold my hand up to stop him. "And if you say 'An errand', I'm walking out the door right now."

Cas clamps his mouth shut quickly. It takes him a full minute before he basically stamps his foot and grunts my name.

"Dean. My time to debate this with you is limited. Can we talk about this on the way?"

"Cas, I ain't doing shit until you come clean."

"I will answer your questions in the car." Cas says hurriedly. "And I won't involve you in anything if you say no."

I think about that for a moment, and think really hard about what the worst possible outcome of this evening could be. Despite his colorful personality, I don't really think Cas is capable of doing anything violent. I also don't think he would do anything to put me in any danger, since he seems to at least, _kind of_ , like me.

"You have to answer all my questions." I finally say.

"Fine." Cas answers back, a small smile pulling at his lips.

"I mean all of them Cas. None of that, half answer, vague bullshit."

"Alright."

I am surprised to get such a quick assent from him, so I decide to push my luck a little bit.

"And not just about this 'errand' either. If I'm going to trust you on this, you've got to answer all my questions. About whatever I want."

Cas' face falls and he regards me suspiciously for a moment before replying,

"Twenty-four hours."

"A week." I counter, stepping forward and away from the kitchen counter.

"Two days." He snaps back, also taking a step forward.

"Four days, and you can't avoid me." I say it slowly, my heartbeat picking up a notch as I step into his space. I don't know what's moving me forward, but it's kind of impossible to stop and Cas keeps meeting me step for step.

He is right in front of me now, and there is the smell of cigarette smoke in my nose, but I don't care at the moment because he takes another step forward and his face is so damn close.

How did this happen? How did we get so close, so fast? Where did all of this tension come from?

That's a stupid question, and I know it.

The sexual tension between us is kind of a constant thing that surrounds us, whether we are around each other or not. Just thinking about Cas makes my blood rush faster in my veins and my skin prickle in anticipation.

His breath his hot on my lips when he finally speaks.

"Three days, and I get one pass."

It's better than I am expecting, so I agree without hesitation.

"Fine."

I swallow back the rushing feeling that urges me to push forward and seal this deal with a bruising kiss.

It's not exactly the perfect time to start exploring Cas' mouth.

He seems to agree, because after just another moment of eye sex, Cas steps back and turns around abruptly. He walks over to the small table next to his kitchen and picks up the rolled up papers that sit there. He tucks them under his arm and heads for the front door.

He doesn't turn back around to face me when he regards me again. "You're driving."

"I don't see why we couldn't just take my car." I whine, shifting in the van's bucket seats and hating the feeling. "I feel like an adulterer."

"More than you did the other night?" Cas says back quickly.

I am so not in the mood for his sass, but I let it go with just an eye roll and an irritated sigh.

We have been on the road for about five minutes now, and I am still trying to formulate the right questions.

"Alright _dick_ , time to fess up." I say. "Lay it on me."

Even in the evening's darkness I can see Cas' eyebrow quirk up.

"Oh hush, you know what I mean." I chastise. "Tell me what's going on."

"I said I would answer questions, not give you a play-by-play."

"You're fucking kidding me right?" I ask, even though I know he couldn't be more serious.

"No." He is on his phone, texting or writing out something, and I find it infuriating.

"You're something else, you know that Cas?"

"Yes."

I want to scream and throw my elbow across the car and into the passenger seat, but I realize that would be a bit extreme and probably just a carry-over from my freak out earlier.

"Fine." I grit through my teeth. "Where are we going right now?"

"To pick up the others." He is still looking down at his phone, his voice impassive.

"What others?"

"The other members of my garrison."

He is answering my questions but I am no closer to understanding what the hell is going on.

"What _the fuck_ is a garrison?"

"Soldiers." He says simply. "Or in our case, just a group of people banding together to defend the defenseless."

The word _soldiers_ puts me on edge and I am starting to rethink the whole violence thing.

"Are you going to hurt anyone?"

"No." Cas looks up at me for a second and then back down to his phone. "At least not physically. There are economic repercussions to our actions."

"Which are what exactly?"

"Take your next right, then turn left and park next to the oak tree." He instructs.

I do as he says, and wait for him to answer my question.

"My group..." He says slowly, looking out his window. "Have you heard of the Animal Liberation Front, Dean?"

That has me jerking my hands slightly, because _yes_ I have heard of that group. I stumbled upon it on my research into animal rights, and I remember thinking that it was kind of bad ass. I thought it was cool that anyone who did things to help animals could call themselves a member, as long their actions didn't hurt anyone. Of course, most of the things being committed are crimes, but from what I could tell, they were all necessary evils.

"Yeah, actually, I have." I answer smoothly. "That what we're doing here, Cas? We liberating some animals?"

Cas looks at me sharply and then turns slowly back towards the window. "That's not all we do, but tonight, yes. That is the plan."

I pull up to where Cas told me to park and there are two men waiting underneath the oak tree. One is tall, possibly taller than myself and built like a rock. His skin is as dark as the night and he is wearing a hard expression on his face. If I am to be completely honest with myself, the guy kind of scares the shit out of me. The man next to him is leaner, almost skinny, and about my height. He has blonde hair and a confident smirk on his face.

They standup, picking up a few bags with them, and walk over to the van with little hesitation.

"Friends of yours Cas?"

"No." He answers simply and steps out of the van and closes the door behind him.

I can't hear what is being said, but I can see the expression on scary guy's face and it kind of makes me want to drive away with the tail pipe between my legs. The other one just looks amused by whatever Cas is saying to them, and shrugs before walking around Cas, and opening the back door to the van. He puts the bags he was carrying inside and then climbs in after them.

"Dean, is it?" His British accent coats each syllable and it's kind of hot, but something about him is more irritating than attractive. "I'm-

"Balthazar!" There is a yell from behind him and the scary guy looks like he might rage out on us. "Don't be stupid enough to give this guy your real name."

"Uh..." Balthazar turns his head around with a roll of his eyes. "I wasn't going to _Uriel_ , pipe down would you?"

He turns back to me and takes a seat in one of the side seats of the van. "Ignore him, his temperament is a reflection on how often is dick gets wet."

Cas makes his way back into the front seat and gives me a look that says, 'You good?'

I shrug and nod at the same time, hoping he understand that I have no idea what to feel at the moment, but I'm not exactly freaking out about the situation.

Maybe if I wasn't already slightly insane this evening, I would be thinking a little clearer about this, but right now all I can keep straight is that I am about to go rescue some poor abused animals, and that sits pretty well with me.

"I don't see why we couldn't have called Raphael, Castiel." Uriel says in a gruff voice.

"Dean was there." Cas answered back simply, not at all phased by the scary guy's tone.

"What's your code name Cas?" I find myself blurting out.

He gives me a look like he is regretting sort of sticking up for me, but then I see a little smile at the corner of his mouth. "Seraph."

I am pretty sure I recognize the other names as belonging to Angels, but I haven't heard of the name Cas goes by.

"How come you don't get an angel name like them?"

He shrugs and looks away, but I clear my throat to remind him of our deal. When he looks back at me, I make sure to be wearing my sweetest cocky smile.

Cas lets out a sigh. "Head west. We're taking 404."

I raise my eyebrows at him expectantly, but I put the car in drive and do as I'm told.

He rewards me with an answer.

"My name is already the name of an angel. That is how the rest of my garrison chose their names." He continues with a school teacher's tone, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't turn me on a bit. "A seraph is an angel of high regard, and since I am the leader of our group, that name was chosen for me."

"Interesting." I say, with a click of my tongue.

"Very." Balthazar teases from the backseat. "You know Castiel, I don't think I've ever heard you put more than five words together in a sentence when we weren't in the middle of a job."  
Cas doesn't say anything to that, and I don't even see a sign that he heard Balthazar, but I'm sure he does.

I smile to myself as I drive the van west on 404.

I like that I've seen a side of Cas that not many others do. It gives me this powerful feeling, and I find myself itching to get rid of the guys in the back seat so I can spend some more time alone with him, figuring him out.

It's another twenty minutes before Cas is telling me to get off of the main road and I follow his directions to what looks like an industrial park. He tells me to pull the van up to a service entrance around back, and I do so without a second thought.

I do have a scrolling marquee going across my head that is yelling at me about how bad an idea this is, and that I'm about to break the law, but I try to dim it with thoughts of how great it will feel to know I helped free some tortured animals.

My hands are fidgeting in my lap after I park the van, and I watch in the rearview mirror as Uriel and Balthazar unzip the bags they brought with them. I can see them pull out some electronic thing that looks like something I saw in a Mission Impossible movie once, and my heart begins to hammer in my chest.

This is happening.

I am about to be a criminal.

An hour ago I was just going to get drunk and maybe get to second base with Cas.

Five hours ago I was planning Thanksgiving dinner and promising to attend an AA meeting that I will definitely be missing now.

And now I am watching two strangers, and one man I am aggressively trying not to fall for, prepare their spy technology for an animal heist.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Is this who I am now?

My eyes are trained on Balthazar and Uriel getting their equipment together, so I don't see Cas reach across and place his hand over mine.

It makes me jump slightly in my seat, and when I look down at his hand, it looks foreign draped over mine.

But the more I stare at it the more I realize how much I really, _really_ like it.

"The neon sign on my forehead blinking again?" I ask quietly, hoping the others don't hear me.

"Something like that." He returns, a guarded smile finding his lips. "If you would prefer-"

"No, it's fine. I want to help."

And it's true, I do want to help. I can't say I would have come up with something like this on my own, and I certainly don't see myself planning anything like this out in the future, but for tonight- yeah, I want to do this.

"Alright."  
"What exactly are you going to be doing in there?" I ask, as close to a whisper as I can manage so as not to spook Uriel.

Cas doesn't hesitate to answer me this time. "This is a cosmetics lab. There are animals inside that need to be freed."

"Where will you put them? You know, after?"

"There should be-" He cuts himself off as another van pulls up beside ours. He motions towards it. "Another group will take them to their new homes."

"I see." I nod and Cas pulls his hand back just as Balthazar leans towards us. I can tell he noticed our exchange though, and my face gets hot at his salacious smile.

"You ready Castiel? Or do you two need a minute?"

I grunt at that, but Cas doesn't respond at all. He just looks at me with a calculating stare.

"Stay in the van. We will be back in under twenty minutes." He gestures towards the steering wheel. "If there is some reason to believe we are about to get caught, you go."

"What?" I can't agree to that shit. No man left behind and all that.

"It is how we operate. We can't do what needs to be done if we are in prison. The more people out there, the more wrongs are righted."

"Cas-"

"If you can't follow simple instructions, I suggest you leave now." Uriel's voice booms from the back of the van and I do my best not to show how close I am to pissing my pants.

I turn on him with my most _don't fuck with me_ stare, and lock eyes with him. After a moment, he just shakes his head and gets out of the van. I'm feeling pretty damn good about myself when I turn back to Cas, who is wearing a glimmer of what looks a lot like pride in his eyes.

Damn right.

"Alright?" Cas asks me, reminding me that I have yet to agree to his terms.

Ultimately, I decide it's best to just tell him yes, and deal with things as they come. Hopefully it will be a nonissue.

"Okay Cas."

He gives me a look I can't quite read. His eyes flick down to my lips, and I think for a millisecond that he is about to lay one on me, but then he is out of the van, and Balthazar is too.

The doors slam and I am left alone, waiting in silence for them to return.


	16. You Ain't Alone

_"I can't say I'm not, at least, a little bit turned on by this."_

 _"Mouth shut Dean." Lisa comes around the counter at the police station and grabs the bag of her personal belongings from the officer._

 _"Now, now- It's not every day I get to bail my wife out of jail." I smile widely and put my arm around her as we make our way towards the exit. "Let me enjoy this."_

 _"You're hilarious. Really." She is trying to sound annoyed at me, but I know her tone is mostly directed at herself._

 _I lead us to my car and wait to give her the third degree until we are inside._

 _"What happened Lis?"_

 _She lets out a loud sigh and starts scrubbing at her inked fingers with a tissue. "It was stupid. Some of the people in my group got a little handsy with the cops and it went south pretty quickly." She shrugged. "I stayed out of it for the most part but I got pulled in anyway. It really was no big deal."_

 _"Why are you with people who are going to start shit?"_

 _I can feel my anger rising. I don't like that Lisa is picketing with people who are likely to get violent. I have never been the overprotective type because Lisa and most of the women in my life have proven that they can handle themselves just fine, but I still don't like the idea of my wife getting into fights._

 _"They weren't supposed to." She says defensively. "I mean, it's not like I have some sort of power to keep everyone in line. Tempers run hot at rallies sometimes, shit happens."_

 _"Well I don't like 'shit happening' when you're there." I sigh and start the car. "I mean, what if you had gotten hurt Lisa?"_

 _"I didn't, so don't worry about it." She lays her hand on my arm to soothe me, but the whole situation has me more pissed off, than the teensy bit aroused I was earlier. Although the jailbird fantasies have yet to make their exit._

 _"I just don't see why you would put yourself in a situation like that willingly. It doesn't make any sense."_

 _She looks sad when I look over at her, before pulling out of the parking space outside of the police station._

 _"You'd understand if you were there Dean." She says slowly. "You'd get it if you cared enough about something to want to fight for it."_

I run through that memory a few times while I wait for Cas and the others to make their way back to the van.

It pushes thoughts of Lisa to the front of my mind, and I begin to feel guilty about my almost lapse in sobriety. I'd like to think it was guilt or common sense that snapped me out of my crazed state earlier, but I honestly believe it was just the harsh tasting whiskey on the back of my throat that did it. It has been years since I tasted something that strong, and it basically forced me to wake up to what I was doing.

Lisa would have been extremely disappointed in me if I had chosen to chase the bottle instead of Cas tonight. Even gone, her opinion of me matters. If there is some off chance that she is actually watching me, then I want to be sure I make choices that would make her proud. It's the least I can do for fourteen years of marriage, and saving me from myself all those years ago.

I wonder how she would feel about me being here right now, playing animal rescuer with Cas and his group of soldiers, or whatever he called them. I don't really know how she would feel about the Cas part specifically, but I think she would be pretty pleased with my decision to help out with what he and his guys are doing. Even though it's technically illegal, and Lisa was always pretty adamant about doing things within the confines of the law, I think she would be proud of me. She always wanted me to give a damn about something, and, _yeah_ , I kind of just stumbled into this, but I find myself caring a lot more about our goal tonight than I thought I would.. If fact, there is a piece of me that kind of wishes I was inside doing the liberating myself.

As far as Cas goes, I know Lisa would want me to be happy, but I don't know if Cas is the person she would choose for me to pursue that with. Lisa wouldn't have cared that he is a man, she always knew about my penchant for both sexes. But I do wonder if she would worry about his lifestyle and general personality. There are moments that I hear her voice telling me to tread lightly, whenever Cas says something that makes the hair on my neck stand at full attention.

I don't know if I am just channeling her when those thoughts enter my mind though, or if maybe they are really fears of my own.

Cas is unlike anyone I have ever met before, and its possible being with him in any capacity would be a very bad idea, but I am at the point where I can't _not_ know. Ever since his little experiment last night, I've allowed myself to think about him whenever I want, and I haven't felt nearly as horrible about that as I did before.

There is still this feeling that Lisa is watching me, and that if I move too quickly with Cas it will be like I'm forgetting her or something, but after a few close calls, my body is telling me to go for it, and maybe just keep things PG-13 for now.

I want to follow my instincts on this one and they are telling me to test the waters a little. Kissing I think I could definitely get on board with now, beyond that I'm not really sure.

I find myself drifting to scenarios in which those water get tested nice, and slow, and wet, and-

The van next to ours is suddenly going backwards, practically peeling out of the parking spot and burning rubber to get out of the lot.

I blink a few times as I catch up to what is happening and follow the van's exit with my eyes.

I am at a complete loss as to what I should do but I don't have time to think anything through, because it isn't a full minute later before a black SUV pulls into the lot and parks on the side of the building. From where our van is sitting, whoever is in the SUV can definitely see it here, but probably not me in the driver's seat.

Something inside me tells me something is _very_ wrong, and that I should probably be doing that thing where I get my ass out of here like Cas wanted me to, but I can't do anything but stare at the new arrival.

The side door of the SUV opens, and a man steps out. He is too far away for me to notice anything more than his light skin and short blonde hair, but there is something about him that unnerves me immediately. Maybe it's the way he carries himself, like there is an entire planet on his shoulders and he alone is capable of bearing it.

A woman joins him a few seconds later and hands him what looks like a glass bottle. He is holding something else in his other hand and I can't quite make-

In an instant I am out of the car and running towards the building.

The door Cas entered is slightly ajar and I duck inside easily.

It occurs to me that I don't have a clue about where they are, or if there is some sort of security measure I should be skirting, but I don't have time to think about it.

I move.

I run towards what looks like a flashlight beam down the hall. I keep by body low to the ground and my face almost completely ducked into my chest, in case there are cameras. I don't know what makes me think to do this, but it seems right.

I can hear whispers and sounds of animals scurrying in their cages as I approach the flashlight beams. When I make it to the room the light is coming from, I crouch lower around the corner, just in case I'm wrong, and I'm about to walk in on the wrong thing.

"This one, help me with the-" Someone is whispering and it sounds like Balthazar so I stand up.

"Hey!" I half whisper, half yell. "This place is about to go up. We need to go!"

All three men nearly jump out of their skin at my warning, and I notice they are in the middle of getting a rabbit out of its cage. Balthazar is holding two, and Cas is in the middle of grabbing what looks to be the last one when they look over to me.

"Dean!" Cas hisses. "What-"

"No time, _seriously_ , we gotta go!" I make a rolling motion with my arm and urge them to move.

It doesn't take but another second before they all seem to get with the program and start moving their asses. I lead the way back out the door I came in, but I only get about half way down the hallway before an explosion goes off somewhere else in the building, and we all get knocked on our asses.

There is smoke filling my lungs and stars in my eyes but I am conscious and moving as quickly as I can to my feet. I see Balthazar struggling to regain control of the two rabbits he had in his possession before the bomb went off, and I scoop one of them off the floor as I look for Cas.

He is helping Uriel to his feet, and holding the third rabbit close to his body.

Confident that Cas is okay, I run towards the exit.

It takes less than a minute before we are all outside and piling into the van. I am throwing the van into reverse and looping around the other side of the building seconds later, avoiding the SUV on the other side.

"What the _FUCK_ was that?" I hear Uriel screaming in the back, as soon as we are clear of the building. "Castiel told you to go, he told you not to-"

"Are you fucking kidding me Uriel?" Balthazar says back, nearly out of breath. "He saved our asses and you're going to throw a tantrum about it?"

I look back to give him an appreciative glance and notice there are a few cuts along his face, as well as a bruise forming around his eye.

"I don't care if he saved an entire species, he didn't follow orders! We run things this way for a reason-"

"Hey, you know what? You're welcome big guy." I yell back to him, trying to keep my eyes on the road and my heart in my chest. "I'm flattered by your gratitude, really-

Castiel's voice interrupts me and I'm startled by how calm it sounds.

"Uriel, Dean disobeyed my command, but he is not a part of this garrison. Your reaction is unwarranted."

"Castiel what are we going to do about this? Not only does he know more than he should without actually being one of us, now he has seen Lucifer and his demons or whatever they are calling themselves these days."

That perks my interest right quick and my eyes are wide and darting to Castiel as I mouth the name 'Lucifer.'"

When I don't get a response I take a glance at Balthazar over my shoulder. "Who the hell is Lucifer?"

"He used to-" Balthazar starts, but Cas cuts him off.

"Enough."

Cas says it so quietly I am surprised Balthazar can hear him, but he does, and his mouth closes immediately.

I'm absolutely amazed at how quickly he shuts up, and just how much authority Cas seems to have. Both men are obviously waiting for Castiel to say something else, but he never does.

It's intimidating. But also incredibly sexy.

The rest of the ride back to the oak tree is relatively silent. By the time I am pulling up and putting the car in park, no one has said a word about what happened back at the lab.

"So..." I start, unsure of how to ask the most pressing question on my mind. "Anyone want to tell me what the hell happened back there?"

Balthazar and Uriel both look at Cas, who shakes his head minutely.

Balthazar doesn't looked pleased, in fact, he looks down right traitorous. "Castiel, if he is going to be joining us, he should know about Luc-"

Castiel's hand flies up and Balthazar's mouth snaps shut. "You two should go. Take the rabbits with you and bring them to Anna."

"Casti-" Uriel tries to get a word in, but he is interrupted as well.

"No." Castiel says calmly. "Dean is not joining us. This was a one-time thing. I will handle this."

Uriel doesn't need to be told twice and he is out the back of the van, with two of the rabbits in his arms.

"I'm sorry you couldn't get the rest of the animals." I say to Balthazar, who gives me a half-smile.

"I appreciate what you did Dean." He says to me quietly. "But you need to be careful."

That only sends a few dozen shivers down my spine, and I look to Cas to get some sort of sign that I should blow Balthazar's warning off.

I don't get one.

Instead, I get what I can only describe as an even more ominous warning, located in the pulled lines on Cas' forehead.

He looks _worried._

If it was anyone else, I wouldn't think that was strange. We did just escape a rain of Molotov cocktails, and by the way it went down, it looks like whoever they usually work with to trade the animals off with sold them out.

But something about Cas, and what little I know about him, doesn't make me think he would feel as much worry as I see on his face.

"Be careful about what?" I ask, looking at Cas instead of Balthazar.

When Cas just stares back at me instead of answering, I am about to remind him of our little deal but his moving lips cuts me off.

"Goodnight Balthazar." He doesn't look at the other man, his eyes stay locked on me.

If I wasn't kind of scared shitless at the moment, I may find Cas' dominance extremely arousing, but I can't get past _what the fuck is going on_ long enough to let myself enjoy it.

I do make a note though.

The very next chance I get, I'm going to kiss the fuck out of this man's face.

I want to bombard Cas with questions the moment we are alone in the van, but I hold off until we are back to his place. He is quiet on the ride home, but not the normal kind of Cas quiet, it's more an eerie silence that makes me feel like I'm in the eye of a storm.

By the time we are walking up to his front door, I can't decide if I should just call it a night now and get in my car, or head inside and take whatever is about to be thrown at me.

When Cas doesn't hesitate outside of the van, and leads the way into the house, my body follows without a command to do so.

Once we are inside, I am just beginning to formulate a battle plan for the night, when I am nearly thrown off my feet and pushed into the front door.

For a second I think maybe I'm finally about to get kissed senseless, but the moment my eyes meet Cas' I know that is not the case.

"What _the hell_ were you thinking?" Cas' teeth are clenched together, and he is leaning so far into my face that I feel his spit on my cheeks.

My head is spinning because, _what the fuck?_ "Cas-" I try to get out, but then his hands are on the lapels of my jacket and pushing me farther into the door and I have no idea what to think but, _shit_. My hands are by my side and completely frozen because I can't even begin to think about what I would do with them.

"I told you to go! I told you to leave us!" Cas is seething, every vein in his face is popping and I am just about to piss myself, when I remember who _I_ am.

I am not some piss ant that just takes things lying down.

Cas may do things to me that no one has ever done to me before, but that doesn't mean I can't stand up to him just as I would anyone else.

I use my suddenly reanimated hands and slam them against Cas' shoulders. He goes flying backwards and stumbles into the middle of the living room.

I am prepared to defend myself against another attack, but Cas just rights himself and then locks eyes with me.

I have definitely never been looked at this way, and I have no idea how to describe it, but I am positive I am not seeing just anger. The worry from before still lines his face, and there is something so close to _fear_ in his eyes that it makes me relax my stance a little.

"You want to start over Cas?" I say it with what little bit of intimidation I can muster at the moment, but it seems to do the trick because Cas is taking a step back and throwing his hand over his face.

"Fuck!" He yells and I jump a little. "This wasn't-" He stops himself and I take a step forward. My arm wants to go forward and put my hand on his shoulder, but I resist the urge because I don't know how that would be received.

Cas takes a deep breath and starts again. "I miscalculated. It won't happen again."

"Miscalculated what?" I ask, carefully keeping my voice even.

He gives me a blank stare. It looks like he has no intention of answering my question, and I am having absolutely _none_ of that bullshit tonight.

"No way Cas." I waggle my fingers at him. "Out with it. A deal is a deal."

Cas stares back at me, a hard expression on his face. "What is your question, exactly?"

I think about that for a second. There are a bunch of things I want to know but it seems like they all revolve around the guy they called Lucifer. I decide to start there.

"Who is Lucifer?"

I can see Cas' eyes go wider for a split second before he is righting them again and licking his lips. His expression changes subtly at first, and then dramatically. He now wears the same cocky look he wore the night we met, and his body starts to move. He takes slow steps forward to stand right in front of me, and suddenly I can't breathe properly.

He definitely notices my own shift, because his infuriating little smirk creeps onto his lips, and if I wasn't waiting for him to answer my question, I would probably make my move and kiss that stupid smirk off his face.

Cas leans forward, just enough to feel the stubble on his cheek, on my own.

When he speaks, his breath is hot and seductive in my ear, but it doesn't hide the slight hitch in his voice.

"Pass."

Son of a bitch.

I know he can hear the little noise my throat makes when he refuses to answer the question, but I don't try to stifle the second one that comes after his hand starts moving up my arm.

I also know I should be pissed that he is using his one pass for something obviously really important, but I can't seem to give a shit at the moment.

My mind wipes of everything that isn't Cas currently pushing my jacket off of my shoulders, and onto the floor.

The sound it makes when it drops to the floor spurs me to action, and my hands go up to Cas' face and grip it tightly. I bring him back so I can look at him, and I am pleasantly surprised to find him looking startled, rather than arrogant.

Wanting to ride the feeling of catching Cas off guard, I pull his face to mine and seal our mouths together.

I revel in the near _whimper_ that escapes his mouth, and surge forward, moving one of my hands down to his hips and pulling him against me, to keep us from falling. Cas' lips are pliant undermine, soft and full and they feel positively perfect against my own.

It takes him a second, but Cas is responding eagerly, one hand at the back of my neck and pulling it towards him and the other slipping down to the crest of my ass. I pull back just enough to kiss him again and then I'm licking into his mouth because _Jesus Christ_ he tastes amazing.

He must not have smoked recently because there is only the slightest flavor of cigarettes in his mouth, and whatever it is that makes Cas, _Cas_ , is what I taste the most. It's earthy, and intoxicating and I have never wanted a drink less than I do right now.

I move my tongue across his, in strong but controlled stokes, and he moves his along with mine. Our hips are pressed together so tightly, my belt buckle has to be digging into Cas stomach, but he doesn't shift.

Thinking about Cas' stomach reminds me of what I've been waiting to get my hands on for weeks, and I move my hand on his hip to under his shirt, and trace along the skin of his hip bone.

That earns me a sound most similar to a growl, and then we are moving towards the couch and I take this opportunity to get Cas out of his jacket as well. We fall gracelessly to the couch , and then Cas is on top of me and kissing me wildly. It's like kissing me is the only thing he has wanted to do his entire life, and now he gets to do it, and its _fucking amazing_.

I am ducking my hands down his back and into the pocket of his jeans before I can tell myself to stop, and Cas' hips grind down into mine.

I see stars as my erection finds friction against Cas', and I am suddenly very aware of where this is leading and how much I really didn't intend for this to happen.

I mean, the kiss was definitely past due, but this- _oh god_ this, am I ready for this?

The fact that I am even thinking about it rather than enjoying the way Cas has moved his mouth to my neck, and is currently kissing his way down to my collar bone, should tell me that maybe I should hit the brakes here.

I've never actually stopped sexual activity before. I mean I have stopped when my partners have wanted to, but I have never gotten this far and wanted to stop myself, so I have no idea what I am doing when I reach up and pull at Cas' hair.

This does nothing to deter him, in fact, it eggs him on and suddenly Cas' hands are snaking up under my shirt and up my stomach and _holy fuck_ pitching my nipple. If I don't stop right now I won't, and I have no idea how I will feel about that in the morning.

I want him, _God_ I want Cas, but I don't want to fuck this up and I really don't want to sleep with him and then hate myself for it.

" _Cas_." It comes out far more like a moan than I want it to, but such is my current physical state, and I need to try again because he just moans against my earlobe as he sucks it into his mouth and rolls his hips into mine again.

This time, I say it less like I'm asking him to swallow me down, and more like I need him to stop right the fuck now. "Cas!"

This gets his attention, and Cas stops what he is doing to look at me. I don't know what to say because I feel like such an asshole for putting the kibosh on going any further, so I just hope he does that mind reading thing he is so good at, and lets me off the hook.

Cas hovers above me and I get this warm feeling deep in my chest that I try to ignore, because I know it means something neither of us want...or maybe just not ready for.

His eyes are vibrant, even in the near darkness of his living room and I can clearly make out the blue tint of irises. They look so soft, so understanding that I feel released from my guilt at stopping him almost immediately.

I am also suddenly aware of how much I really didn't want the kissing part to stop. Just because I don't want to take it further tonight, doesn't mean I don't want to spend the evening with Cas' tongue down my throat.

Cas stares down at me for another long minute, not saying anything at all. He looks down at me with what can only be described as affection, and that has me doing mental backflips.

I am just about to give up on the necking portion of our evening when Cas leans back down to place a kiss on my lips. He keeps his body above mine though, our hips no longer meeting and the pressure to move faster removed.

The kiss grows deeper, and I am thrilled that I didn't just ruin the moment.

In the back of my mind, (the part that isn't memorizing the texture of Cas tongue or the feel of his lips between mine), I find myself grateful for the thing that used to annoy me the most about Cas.

I didn't have to say a word about not being ready for sex, but still really wanting to keep up the kissing part, and he just knew.

As we continue making out on the couch like teenagers waiting for their parents to come home, I wonder if Cas can read everyone this well, or if it's just me.


	17. Wrecking Crew

"I think your question could use some clarification." Cas has a seriously annoyed look on his face, but I can't help but smile brightly back at him.

The past two days have been incredibly bewildering.

Partly because I kiss Cas pretty much whenever I want, and partly because he has to answer any question I have for him, as per our deal. I actually wrote out a list of stuff to get answers to, some of it was pretty generic and basic, like favorite color (green) and favorite movie (Reservoir Dogs). Other questions were more complicated.

I shied away from the more sensitive stuff at first, not wanting to be a dick and ask too many personal questions, but I'm also fully aware that this may be the only time I get legitimate answers out of him and I want to take advantage of that. The fact that he blacklisted all things Lucifer, has me pretty irritated, as well as the fact that he never adds anything extra to the questions I ask him. He answers them in as few words as he can get away with, and I am left having to ask more questions to get anything of actual substance.

Like when I asked him how he ended up in foster care, it took fifteen different questions to know that his father was killed in action in Iraq when he was five, and his mother died shortly after. I could tell from the look on his face when he admitted to his mother's death, that there was much more to that story than he was telling me, but I didn't want to push him that far if he didn't want to share something so personal.

It's the last day of our arrangement, and I can't help but feel a little dirty about the whole situation. I'm learning all this information about a man who usually says no more than a word or two about himself. Of course, if he is talking about someone else, the fucker won't shut up, but ask him one serious thing about who he is, and he takes a trip down monosyllabic lane.

I'm pretty nice about our set up though, and answer any questions he has for me that are related to what I ask him, so it's more like tit for tat, rather than an interrogation.

"What?" I say innocently through my smile. " _Why don't you like people, Cas?_ what's so hard to understand about that."

I hear a snicker in front of me, and know that Gabe is enjoying Cas' and my deal, just as much as I am.

"Maybe I just think it's a stupid question." Cas rolls his eyes and sips out of his beer bottle.

I had meant it mostly as a joke, since it's obvious that Cas isn't exactly a people person, but now I'm actually interested in how he will answer.

"Stupid or not, a question is a question." I say, taking a bite of my sandwich.

I came in to see Gabe on my lunch hour since I hadn't talked to him in a few days, and was pleasantly surprised to find Cas already occupying a seat at the bar. I had a momentary twinge of worry about his day-drinking, but forced it away. I don't want to start caring about the way Cas lives his life. The last thing I need is to add serious feelings to the myriad of emotions that already accompany my thoughts of Cas.

"I don't hate people." He finally answers. I can tell by his tone that he has no intention of elaborating and I gear up to ask another question.

But then his lips curl into a smirk around the lip of his beer bottle, and I forget what I was going to say.

If Gabe wasn't currently standing two feet away, I would grab Cas' face and lay one on him right now because he is, so _God damn sexy_ , when he is being a smug bastard. I lick my lips in response, and Cas raises one of his eyebrows as he watches the course my tongue takes over my lips.

It's a challenge, and I am so close to nodding and meeting him in the bathroom, but I just paste on my own cocky smirk and shake my head. "You think you're so clever Cas."

"Yes." He says, a slight chuckle under his breath taking away from the arrogance of his word.

"Fine. Let's try this." I rub my hands together and exhale. "What is it about people, that makes you dislike being around them?"

"Nice." I hear from behind the bar, and turn to give Gabe a wink of appreciation.

When I turn back to Cas, I can see something in his eyes that I've never seen before, and I think, _just maybe_ , it might be jealousy. There is certainly that predatory look in his eyes as he looks between me and Gabe quickly, but then his expression goes blank, and he is back to just staring at me with an irritated look on his face.

I don't have long to think about the implication of what that look meant, because Cas looks like he is actually thinking about giving me a real answer and I straighten up to hear it. He takes a long sip of his beer, and takes a bite of his own sandwich before he finally speaks.

"Alright." He says, wiping his hands on his napkin and then throwing the napkin onto his plate. "People?"

Cas sits back in his chair and props his knee up so that it's leaning against the bar ledge.

"As an idea, they are exquisite. A person can accomplish a great many things, and do exponential good with the resources available to them."

It sounds like he is reading from a textbook, rather than speaking his mind, and it takes me only a second to realize why. I keep my mouth shut though, and let him get through his bullshit answer.

"In practice? People are the greatest flaw our planet boasts. They consume, they break, they torture, and they demand. As a whole, people are the earth's parasites, and do not deserve the resources she provides them."

His hands are behind his head, and his eyes are up to the television screen, and I can tell he is so pleased with himself. He doesn't see me give him the biggest eye roll my eye sockets allow, because his eyes are still up and not on me. His hand snakes out to grab his beer and sucks some down.

My voice cuts through his chug session. "Do you always quote your own articles, or is it just when you can't come up with anything real to say?"

Cas chokes on his beer then, and I find an immense level of satisfaction at that.

He looks at me with a half amused, half amazed look on his face, which I attribute to his surprise at me being able to pinpoint his rant's source.

"You actually read what I wrote?" He says it kind of suspiciously, and his mouth is slightly open. When I nod, with a ' _well, duh_ ' look on my face, a small grin finds his lips.

"Surprised?" I ask.

"Yes." He answers back. "I assumed your sudden interest in animal rights was just to get into my pants." His humbled smile vanishes and in its place is the cocky smirk I've _kind of_ come to adore.

"Oh it is." I say with sly confidence. "I'm just very thorough."

"Impressive." He says it like he really means it, although his eyes are telling a completely different story. They are screaming something I definitely recognize as fear, and I think maybe he has the wrong idea about my true motives here.

The last thing I want, is for Cas to think I am actually interested in more than something physical right now. I can just barely handle the groping we have worked up to over the last couple days, so I am not exactly campaigning for a boyfriend, and I know something with more substance is definitely not what he wants either.

I have thankfully stopped seeing Lisa behind my eyes whenever we kiss, and I'm almost at the point where I can leave her in her own carved out space in my mind, and not let her creep in at all when I'm with Cas. It's not exactly sexy, thinking of your dead wife when someone else's hand is working their hand into your pants.

It occurs to me that Cas must really want to know what I'm like in the sack, if he is willing to go as slow as he is. It's not as if I see a bunch of options he is turning down though, so at least I know he isn't missing out on anything by spending his time with me.

Thinking about Cas seeing someone else kind of turns my stomach, but at the same time, I know I have no right to him. He said himself that he doesn't do labels, not that I'd be interested in that right now anyway.

I have to admit though, it is getting harder not to develop actual feelings for this guy the more I get to know him. It's easy to lust after someone when there is such a magnetic connection, like there is with me and Cas, even if you just met. Now that I happen to know the name of his first grade teacher (Mrs. Visna), and the way he likes his eggs (Over easy, heavy on the cayenne, buttered toast for dipping), seeing Cas as just a hot body is starting to become pretty difficult.

"Don't worry Cas" I say teasingly, even though something in me makes it difficult to get the next words out. "I promise it's only your body I'm after."

I hear a noise from behind the bar that makes me turn away from Cas, who has just blinked a few times in my direction and then turned back to his beer. Gabe is staring at me with an undiscernible look, and I give him a face that asks him why.

"Nothing." He says too quickly. "Uh, you about done there?" I can tell he is purposely not saying whatever it is he was thinking before, and it bugs me, but I don't challenge him.

Beside me, Cas is standing up and downing the last of his beer. He nearly slams it back down on the bar, before pulling some cash from his pocket and throwing it next to the bottle. He gives Gabe a nod and then puts on his jacket.

"You headed out?" I say around my last bite of sandwich.

"Does it look like I plan to stay awhile?" He says back dryly.

His tone bites harder than it usually does, even though the words are not at all unexpected.

I refrain from throwing him the insult I know he is fishing for, and just shrug and stick a fry in my mouth.

Instead of being annoyed though, Cas just snickers and shakes his head.

I look over to find him staring at me and I don't know what he wants me to do, but I sure as hell would like to say goodbye with my mouth on his. The choice is out of my hands though, when Cas turns abruptly, and heads out the door.

"No goodbye?" Gabe asks me after the door slams shut.

"I guess not." I shrug again, and try not to let Cas' strange behavior affect me. The guy _is_ strange, his method of departure isn't supposed to be normal.

"Trouble in paradise already?" Gabe teases, pulling my water glass from me and refilling it.

"What paradise?" I balk. "Me and Cas?" I give him an overly bemused look. "You got to be careful with all that porn you watch Gabe. Your brain is leaking out your dick."

Gabe laughs at that, but his amusement doesn't reach his eyes.

"I don't know Dean-o." He shakes his head and speaks carefully. "Seems to me, you two got something bigger than either of you want to admit."

Something in my heart kind of stutters at that, but I don't want to give it any more thought than I have to. "Like I said, you've gone insane."

Gabe just shrugs and gives me a look that says I'm full of shit.

"Seriously, Cas and I are just-" I groan and sit back in my seat. "We're not that. Okay? He doesn't want that, I can't...it's just not like that."

"He's told you this?" Gabe is suddenly very occupied with drying glasses that didn't look wet, and I am left wondering what he knows that I don't.

"Uh...maybe?" I honestly can't remember what Cas said exactly, but he definitely gave off the impression that he wasn't interested in anything long-term. "I don't know, Cas isn't much of a talker Gabe."

"Eh, I don't know." Gabe shrugs with his mouth. "Everyone talks to someone. Even Cassie."

Something occurs to me then, and I eye Gabe harder. "How long have you known Cas?"

Gabe's eyes go wide for a second before he recovers his expression and evens it out. "Uh- I don't know, a decade? Give or take a year."

"Whoa." I shouldn't be surprised by this, considering that Cas comes here as often as he does, but it still throws me. "How exactly do you two know each other?"

"We, uh, worked together." Gabe barely gets the sentence out because he is so absorbed in his apparently _obscenely_ wet beer mugs. He then moves to the other end of the bar and starts wiping it pretty aggressively.

"Is that right?" I say cautiously, letting my doubt coat every word. "You used to work for PETA too?"

Gabe starts filling the sinks behind the bar and bringing _clean_ glasses over to wash. "Yep. Hey, I heard you were friends with Charlie too. You going to the friendsgiving thing her and her girls got going?"

And the award for most obvious avoidance technique goes to...

"Uh, yeah, I am. Actually, I'm staying with Charlie that weekend, I got renters coming in." I follow Gabe's lead, even though it is painfully obvious he is trying to change the subject.

"She going to share one of her girlfriends with you?" Gabe teases, his face still angled towards the sinks as he washes glasses. "If not, I got a couch and a stack of Casa Erotica with your name on it."

"You're disgusting." I say with a straight face. "Truly horrendous."

"It's a gift." He says with a flick of his wrist as he brushes his hair back.

I want to go back to Cas and how they know each other, but I don't know how to get there without calling him out.

Why is everyone so damn sketchy in this town?

I check my phone for the time and realize I need to get back, so I pull out some cash and lay it on the bar. "I gotta jet, back on the clock."

I try to ignore the relief that seems to fly off of Gabe's shoulders, and just give him a nod and a wave before I head out and back to work.

Work is pretty slow for the rest of the day, and Rufus lets me go around four. I stop in to see Charlie before heading home, and just barely get out of having to answer the questions she starts throwing at me, the moment Cas comes up. Thankfully, my phone rings as she is handing me my coffee, and I get to use that as an excuse to talk to her later.

I look down at the number as I head out of the coffee shop, but don't recognize it, so I let it go to voicemail. I hate talking to people on the phone, and I especially hate having to listen to people try and sell me stuff. Part of me always feels bad for them, that this is their job, and part of me just wants to throw battery acid through the phone, and into their stupid mouths for screwing with my day. Whoever it was, didn't leave a message, so I figure it was definitely a telemarketer of some kind.

The walk home isn't so bad, and the coffee helps keep me warm on the way.

I think about Gabe and Cas, and why Gabe was so weird about their relationship. It strikes me as odd, but then again, maybe Gabe knows Cas through ALF and not PETA, and he didn't want to out Cas. I could see that being the case.

I am starting to feel better about the situation when I remember what Gabe said about Cas, and how everyone talks to someone.

Is it possible Cas talks to Gabe about stuff like this? About me?

If there was anyone in Cas' life I would think he talks to, I would think its Charlie, but maybe I'm wrong. It is pretty strange that Cas hangs out with Gabe as often as he seems to, if they aren't actually pretty close.

I get a quick flash of something dark as I picture the possibility of them being lovers at some point, and the image makes me cringe. I definitely do not like the idea of Cas being with anyone else, which is crazy because I've known the guy for like a month, and it was only days ago that I kissed him for the first time. I shouldn't be feeling so possessive over him. Especially since he has no intention of truly being mine.

I let out a sigh, and I have no idea where it comes from, but it sounds too much like regret for my liking. I pick up my pace and make it home faster than usual.

I walk into the house and immediately wish I was somewhere else.

I wish I was walking into Cas' place, taking a place next to him on the couch, and eating shitty Chinese food while we-

 _NO._

That is not what is going to happen here.

We are not dating.

He is not, nor will he ever be _my boyfriend_.

Why am I even freaking out about this? It's not like I am ready to settle into something more there either. I don't think I could give Cas any sort of emotional...whatever.

It's too soon. Way too soon.

I need to calm the fuck down.

I take a few measured breaths with my eyes closed to try and get a handle on myself. I take a few more steps into my house, but I stop short because I promised myself I would follow my instincts on this, and those are telling me to make the walk to six houses over.

The truth is, I feel better when I'm around him. I don't feel as _broken_.

I feel strong.

So, maybe he isn't just a hot piece of ass that I sort of wish I could sink my dick into right now, maybe he actually _is_ my friend.

He may not want to call himself that, but to me, Cas has definitely become my friend.

My friend that I really want to see naked.

"Fuck it."

I turn around and leave the house much happier than I came in.

Cas doesn't seem to care that I say hello with my tongue, or that I use it to find the most sensitive places along his neck.

And if he cares that I sucked a mark or two into his skin too, he doesn't say so.


End file.
